


Little Surprises

by LChan3706



Series: Bloody Petals [3]
Category: Batman - Fandom, Naruto, The Dark Knight, The Joker - Fandom
Genre: AU, Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Control, Crossover, Dark, Denial, Desperation, Dubious suicide, Explosives, F/M, Jealousy, Joker-Heath Ledger, Kidnapping, Murder, Possessiveness, Stalking, The Dark Knight - Freeform, Torture, Unhealthy Relationships, Unrequited Love, Violence, mental issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:40:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23011900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LChan3706/pseuds/LChan3706
Summary: He always looks forward to that special part of the day, but life can be hilariously unpredictable.
Relationships: Joker/Haruno Sakura
Series: Bloody Petals [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1762705
Comments: 31
Kudos: 50





	1. Void

**Author's Note:**

  * For [glow593](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glow593/gifts).



"Dollface, I have a surprise for _you_. Have you, ah, been a _good girl_?"

Joker sings, kicking open the door to the small apartment. They're staying in an old dilapidated complex that he and his men are using as a temporary base. All-day, he's been agitated and on edge, pacing around and muttering to himself. Everyone in proximity could _feel_ his impatience from the orders barked out and insults thrown at anyone foolish enough to drag their feet. These morons know better than to waste precious time... He couldn't wait to get back, filled to the brim with energy and pumped in anticipation. Not even having the Chechen cut up and fed to his dogs did anything to quell his innate desire to return as quickly as possible...

Walking through the threshold, his lips curl up with a snarl. There's no one here... Not seeing the pinkette sitting on the sofa and waiting for him, or hearing the familiar pitter-patter of her feet across the wooden floorboards irks him to no ends. It's impossible that she _didn't_ hear him coming. He purposefully makes plenty of noise on his way up the stairs to alert her of his presence. That gives her a fair chance to prepare herself, which is something the clown wouldn't consider doing for anyone else. There's no way of her knowing when he'll suddenly pop-up, but that's never stopped him before. She knows better than to ignore _him_.

_'I'm gonna have to punish her again... I'll have to try not being so heavy-handed with the condition she's in...'_

Smacking his lips together, dark eyes stare up towards the ceiling as he pinches the bridge of his nose. There isn't much he asks for, so why does everyone have to be so — _so_ _difficult_? Joker growls in annoyance, tugging his belt off. Why does that woman have to make him do this? Can't she just _listen_ to what he says? He does things for a reason and to be honest, it really seemed like she was on board now... She's been doing so well! Why now, of all times?

" _Sakura?_ " The smeared greasepaint he's worn since this morning cracks from an agitated muscle in his face twitching. Doesn't she realize by now this is the best part of his day? Or does it really mean that _little_ to her?

"Where are my babies at?" Perhaps the pinkette's feeling ill again and taking a nap? That _has_ to be it. She wouldn't purposefully ignore him, knowing how it sends him spiraling into another one of his fits. Neither of them like it when he's enraged, especially the clown. Cause her pain just doesn't bring him joy or excitement the way it used to. That ship's sailed a while ago.

Every day, Joker finds himself looking forward to coming back and seeing a bright face waiting for him. That was originally the only part of her he would intentionally avoid during his erratic episodes. Occasionally, when she became too mouthy for her own good, he'd take a swipe at her pale face, only to regret it later on. It just isn't right for a face like that to be blemished or distorted. It's far too delicate and beautiful, even for his artistry.

These days, he tries avoiding striking her at all. He doesn't want to harm his child or cause her to miscarry. If that happens, the world of pain he'll have to inflict is almost too much for even _him_ to bear...

Stepping across the threshold, the battered dress shoes make the floorboards creak under his weight. The clown stomps through the apartment, hoping the noise will draw her out from wherever she's hiding. What the hell's going through that little pink head of hers? Did she lose her goddamn mind? This is practically _asking_ for retaliation.

Perhaps Harley was foolish enough to come in again during his absence? Didn't he teach that stupid blonde a good enough lesson the last time around? Maybe it's time to put an end to that obsessive woman... She's nothing but a thorn in his side these days with her incessant complaining and jealousy-fueled antics. If the circumstances were different, he might have found some amusement in her desperate attempts. Unfortunately for that skank, he finds nothing even remotely funny about her behavior.

Joker _hates_ it when Sakura hides... This apartment is for her to live in, so he has somewhere for them to be alone together. The former doctor didn't appreciate that. Not. One. _Bit_...

When the clown noticed bruises that weren't his doing— _he remembers every single one_ —the rage throughout the complex couldn't be contained. If Rocco hadn't reminded him of how useful the blonde occasionally was, she'd be long dead by now. He would have continued beating her to death, after taking his unbridled anger out on a handful of henchmen.

Joker doesn't give a shit if she's jealous or worships the ground he walks on. A woman won't get in the way of what he wants, especially not someone like _Harleen Quinzel_.

After breaking out of Arkham, they had their fun. Killing, fucking, robbing places, blowing stuff up, setting everything ablaze... It _was_ a fun time, but that didn't last long... A man can only have someone begging for their attention and cock so many times before it becomes _boring_. None of it brought him the satisfaction he desires. Harley is always down for anything and everything he wants to do. Sure, she'd hit him back once in a while, even started yelling and stomping around like an impertinent child. The woman just doesn't get it and never really understands the way his brain is wired. Having a degree in psychiatry doesn't make someone all-knowing and he let the tart in on that little secret many times over.

Sometimes, there's just a large, gaping hole inside that left him completely puzzled. That empty space led him to try filling it with a variety of things— _money, weapons, killing, fucking, arson, complicated schemes, stealing_ —anything that might get him off. No matter what he did, everything was useless. That fucking hole was still here, laughing and taunting him to no end. That's a concept the 'talented' doctor failed to notice or comprehend. He wasn't going to waste his time or breath trying to articulate what that truly means. Hell, he didn't understand it himself... If a genius like the Joker can't grasp something, how can a ditzy slut possibly get wrap her head around it? Most of the time, the only thing she wants to do is wrap her lips around his cock and that's perfectly _fine_.

There was a problem with their little arrangement, and she couldn't see that, even though it was clear as day. The Joker doesn't want someone that's _so_ similar. That's what she tried to model Harley Quinn after. It's only a character Harleen created in an attempt to suit his desires. There's nothing _genuine_ about it... Soon, he found himself back to wandering the streets again. The clown was constantly searching for anything that can ignite the flame inside that's starting to wane. A roaring inferno that's left flickering into a small ember. How unforgivable for a man who's the embodiment of fire and chaos...

Shortly after realizing this, he met that _woman_ who screwed _everything_ up...

* * *

It was dark out and freezing, just another night during the winter months in Gotham. That never bothered him, since he rarely feels much these days, anyway. Not the fear that used to make his body shake with a cold sweat as a child, nor the delicious sensation of pain from the bite of a blade. He misses it and goes out of his way to relive those sensations that cause his blood to boil and race.

Stalking down another garbage littered alleyway, he stops to shake the white fluff starting to melt into his messy hair. The clown growls out in annoyance, cursing under his breath. This is _exactly_ why he never trusts the weather forecast or any fool behind a desk. Popping his lips, Joker glances up when he hears a noise and it's at that moment everything _changed_. A woman walks by, clinging to her coat and shivering, with little clouds of breath pouring from her pink lips into the frigid air. The clown froze on the spot, feeling the wind knocked out of him like a punch straight to the gut.

Saying she's _beautiful_ wouldn't have done any sort of justice. The woman has the appearance of an angel, gracefully floating over the snow. A yuki-onna, waiting to lure some poor sap in and suck the life right out of him.

Without a second thought, Joker follows. Hanging back in the shadows, the black pits in his sockets observe from a distance. They were sucked in and couldn't find it in themselves to look anywhere else... He became completely entranced with the pale beauty.

For three days, he studied every little thing this woman did with interest. The clown doesn't understand why, but even the most mundane tasks were intriguing. How her slim body moves so fluidly, the way she talks and interacts with others... He couldn't help eating it all up and wanting _more_. From one glance at her uniform, it's clear she works at Gotham General. Of course, that's the case. It seems to be in her nature to help others... At work, she's nimble on her feet, thoughtful, and caring with the patients who need aid. Constantly showing them a loving, maternal side those people never deserved.

No one can be more different from the Joker... She's the complete opposite in every way, and he's _living for it_. The clown's tall with broad shoulders, greasy faded green hair, and his tan skin littered with gnarly scars and old wounds that healed poorly. Rough and battered with a penchant for violence. This woman's petite and incredibly smaller compared to him. Her long, bright pink locks appear to be made of silk that runs down the length of her back, always so neat and clean. Her skin is entirely unblemished, smooth and white like porcelain, almost begging for him to sink his teeth in. He always has an urge to break things that seemed _too_ perfect...

This creature can't be of this world. Women aren't made this way. If she's a demon, so be it... However, instead of her overtaking him, he'll possess her at all costs. An idea quickly forms in his head from becoming impatient. Something needs to be done. There comes a point where stalking just isn't enough anymore.

After passing out in an alleyway with a piece of shrapnel embedded in his side from a homemade explosive— _conveniently outside of her building—_ Joker woke up to a _bizarre_ scene. Lying on a couch in a warm apartment, he was initially shocked at the sight of the pink-haired woman trying to nurse him back to health. The only thing more surprising than the color scheme of this person up close, is the way her green eyes didn't stare at his scars or even seemed horrified when she cleaned the greasepaint from his skin, revealing them.

Didn't even bat an eye!

The little vixen took a complete stranger into her home, without realizing or caring who he is, gently cleaning and bandaging him up. He couldn't help laughing at her foolishness... or leaning into her soft, delicate hands while she cared for him. All these years, Joker thought he'd seen and experienced everything that life has to offer. Closing his eyes and trying to steady the erratic rhythm beneath his tan skin, it dawned on the clown that he couldn't remember if anyone ever tried doing anything like this for him before. For some reason, this entire experience suddenly became troubling and left him more confused than he's ever been.

After she left for her shift at the hospital three days later, he suddenly vanished. Joker didn't leave a note or any sign that he was ever there in the first place, aside from the wrappings she laid out on the counter that morning. It must have seemed rude to just leave without a word after all the hours and time she spent caring for him. The pinkette allowed him to take up her precious time, cooking meals, and making sure he's comfortable. It was a mind-boggling experience, and he wasn't used to that kind of treatment or ever expected it from another human being. However, the clown is not a _complete_ monster... It was only a few days later that he returned to _show_ his appreciation for all her efforts.

Apparently, the pinkette didn't _want_ him to show his gratitude. That doesn't matter, because he did it _anyway_... Everyone in Gotham learns the hard way that whenever the Joker wants something, he damn well gets it.

_And learn she did..._

It took some time to break Sakura in after giving her a new home. She didn't like the moving arrangements, but as with all new things, people have to adapt and accept change. Sometimes that takes much _longer_ than he would have liked.

_Months and months..._

Harley threw a fit when he carried the unconscious pinkette through the doors of the complex, scratching and hitting him in her anger. Even trying to rip the woman from out of his arms... A few fists thrown later, and the blonde was knocked back in her place. Who the hell is _she_ to tell _him_ what to do? Just because he allowed her to keep living and didn't mind sticking it in now and then, doesn't mean that whore has a say about _anything_.

 **"I'll kill that little bitch!"** The blonde screams and threatened. Rocco had to calm him down enough to let go of Harley's throat when her face turned blue.

Every night, he sauntered up to the apartment he gifted Sakura, and she'd fight him tooth-and-nail. Couldn't she see that he just wants to spend some time together? That he doesn't enjoy having to carve into her skin to show who she belongs to? Hates having to beat her into submission? If only she realized how much those moments mean to him, maybe she'd have some gratitude.

 _ **"I hate you... I hate you!"**_ Sakura didn't mean it and he knows that. She's just upset about the blood staining the new bed and silk sheets he got just for her.

Why couldn't she appreciate all the effort he put into their _relationship_? Harley would've died a happy woman if he did 1/100th of that to her. However, it's not the doctor that takes up all the extra space in his mind that isn't dedicated to his schemes, but the pinkette. The clown doesn't want a cartoon character to run their fingers through his messy hair. It's Sakura's delicate hands he desires to trace his scars and make him feel whole. She fills that void in his chest, which is something he desperately needed, without realizing that's what was missing.

It took a long time, but he coerced the pinkette into doing that. After all, he doesn't want to keep hitting and cutting into her pale flesh more than he already has to... Those are the sacrifices he's willing to make for _love_. He's pretty sure that's what this feeling is called whenever they're together. The one where his chest is heavy, and he breaks out in a sweat just thinking about her. That sensation that someone filled his veins with molten lava when he sees her. It's almost like being hooked up to a live-wire the moment her fingertips ghost over his skin. Spending plenty of time in Arkham with Jeremiah, he knows _exactly_ how that feels. If this isn't love, then Joker has no fucking clue what this is, because he's never experienced it before.

There's nothing better after a long day, than to come home and have a beautiful woman wipe off the greasepaint and tenderly caress his bare face. Even Harley never receive _that_ luxury. Whether it's through fear of pain or reluctance, it doesn't matter anymore... He knows Sakura learned to love him. What better way to show it than allowing her to carve into his own flesh with a blade and etch her initial into his body? He couldn't think of a more fitting tribute for the woman that stole the little lump of coal in his chest.

Months flew by quickly, much faster than he cares to think about. Soon the pinkette learned her place as she waited for him in the living room or the bed, wherever he wants her to be. They started a new routine together, one he relishes every day at the thought of. There's finally _something_ to look forward to.

Harley doesn't care for it. Not. At. _All_. Such a greedy, selfish woman... That's why she could never be the chosen one. The blonde's more than willing to die for him, but that's too easy. It only takes a second to get shot, and he knows that all too well. _Living_ for another person shows true dedication and artistry. Lots of patience and finesse, diligence, and refined attention to detail. That's something an average person can accomplish.

Anyone can go out and buy a car. Keeping that car in mint-condition for years proves how much it truly means to its owner. That's what Harleen is... Just a motorcycle he bought on a whim, rode for a while, then discarded in the junkyard. _Sakura..._ Now, that's a completely different story. She's a prized, luxury car he'll clean and polish every day, as long as it's his.

Poor Harley couldn't understand the reference... She never gets his jokes.

The blonde became too cocky and waited until he left to sneak up into the apartment where Sakura's confined. She used his absence to take her anger out on his most prized possession. The pinkette had so many bruises to begin with— _f_ _rom the his rough treatment in and out of bed_ —that he didn't notice _right_ away. After seeing a mark on her precious face, he knew something was up and everyone paid for it that night...

Joker tries to make up for it the best way he knows how. Buying the small woman anything a woman can ever want, revealing the tender side of himself as he washes away the blood and bandages her carefully, the same way she did long ago. Sakura learned to appreciate it and _him_. There isn't much of a choice and he never gave her one, anyway.

The nights eventually became like a dream come true. He enjoys her soft hands running through his hair, kissing the raised scars around his mouth in a way no one's ever done. Listening to his plans and giving suggestions when he asks for it on the rare occasions he's not feeling very creative. Instead of trying to run away and forcing him to hurt her to where she can't leave the bed, she stays and waits for him to return to show how much he appreciates her compliance.

Joker's as patient and understanding as a mad clown can be, but the hard work paid off. Now she's everything he wanted her to be... Molded into the perfect lover he knew she had the potential for. She's his precious little bunny, the gift this shitty life finally gave him. Someone he can love and hold to his heart's content without worrying about her disappearing on him...

* * *

"Sakura?" Not hearing anything, he stomps through the apartment. His violent temper is getting the best of him. One of two things will happen — either Harley's about to be punished to the next extreme or Sakura has to deal with the scratches along her back as he yanks her around the bed in his frenzy... One way or another, someone's going to pay for her absence after he waited all day to come home.

The door to their bedroom is closed. That's something the clown never likes to see when he comes back. She knows better... The only time it's not supposed to be open is in his absence. He doesn't want anyone else to come in here or see her. She only exists for his eyes and attention. Quite a few goons were tortured and killed since their relationship started. Unwarranted looks, roaming eyes, careless hands, or comments when they think he can't hear them. Joker sees and hears everything, and it takes very little to get his jealousy roaring with anger. A flame so hot, it burns black, incinerating everything and everyone in its path... That's one reason he keeps the pinkette locked-up in here. She's the only peaceful part of his life, and he refuses to share it with anyone else.

Grabbing the handle, the urge to kick the door down is only quelled by his possessiveness and desire to keep an extra barrier up between his little slice of heaven and the rest of the building. If he destroys the door, it gives someone an opportunity to "get lost" and wander into the apartment by _accident_. Unfortunately, he doesn't accept excuses or apologies and rectifies any mistakes with a blade.

Twisting the knob, Joker's brow furrows when he realizes it's locked. It shouldn't be... Sakura knows better than to try keeping him out. It only takes 15 seconds at most to pick it, and she learned that a long time ago. Throwing his weight against the door, it quickly gives way and slams into the dingy wall behind it. Stepping into the room and letting his eyes re-adjust to the dim surroundings, he freezes on the spot.

"What?... No-No- _No_..." Dark eyes widen as the clown tries to steady himself. He loses balance from his knees quaking beneath him, threatening to give out under his weight. His entire body feels crafted from heavy lead, unable to move with gravity keeping him pinned to the floor. A cold sweat breaks out over the surface of his skin, causing the greasepaint to weep further down until it trails the contours of his neck. White and red lick the collar of his purple trench coat and he can _feel_ the perspiration soaking through the thick, colorful layers of his clothing. For the first time in his life, Joker thinks he might be in shock. Genuine shock, not surprise or a little taken off guard. The kind that stops a person's heart and causes their body to stop functioning properly. Where a single string of thought is impossible and everything becomes incomprehensible.

Taking a step forward, he sucks in a breath without realizing he was depriving his lungs of any oxygen. It takes a moment to snap out of the daze, realizing he needs to _act_. Launching himself onto the mattress, gloved hands grab at the body lying on top of the sheets. Everything's red and pink... Two colors he reveled in before, but only causes his stomach to twist now.

Clutch tightly in her tiny fist is the knife he gifted her a few weeks ago for their anniversary. The one that's to keep her _safe_ when he's gone. A lump forms in his throat as he shakes her, trying to make the pinkette wake-up and stop playing games. This joke isn't funny. Not. At. _All_... Blood seeps through his green waistcoat and pinstriped pants when he pulls her limp body against him, smacking his shaking hand against her cheek. That'll wake her up, right? She always _hates_ it when he does that...

"Sakura... _C'mon_ , dollface." Joker stares down at her wildly, desperate to get some sort of reaction from her. Why won't she wake up? He's home now.. Doesn't she realize this is the only thing he looks forward to?

"Enough screwing around! **LOOK. AT. ME.** " This is the commanding voice he saves for the tapes he broadcasts over the news. That should make her listen and give up on this foolish act, but she doesn't move a muscle. Panic starts to sink in as the corner of his scarred mouth twitches. Every muscle in his body is strained and pulsing against his clothes.

Joker doesn't know what to do... He _never_ doesn't know what to do and always has several contingency plans in place for _everything_.

"Don't make me _beg_... Wake up! _**I fucking said wake the hell up!**_ " His voice turns into an angry roar, the only other version that always scares her straight. The one that's full of promises of endless pain if she refuses to listen. He jerks her around violently, slapping her cheek hard enough to leave a terrible bruise. Later on, he'll regret touching her face, but he's losing control of himself. Sakura will forgive him for it, she always does...

The soft fabric hugging her body is no longer the wonderfully deep emerald color he enjoys seeing her wear so much. Shades of green always compliment her pink hair and pale skin, always so striking on the eyes. The silken slip is turning black in the dim lighting with the fluids from the deep slashes engraved into her wrists bleed out.

" _Please_... Wake up... I'm-I'm... _sorry._ Just wake up..." A word completely foreign to the Joker and the most difficult act he's ever committed. He's never apologized for _anything_ in his life. If it's pleading she wants so badly, he has no other choice but to give in. He'll do it a million times if that's what she needs from him right now.

Sakura's just sleeping, he can tell. She always has that peaceful look these days when they sleep together in this bed. Is the pinkette angry he came home later than usual? Upset that he didn't kill that blonde witch yet? Agitated that he spent most of the day tormenting the city she hadn't seen in such a long time?

 _That's it_... She's probably irritated that he doesn't let her out enough. Maybe Sakura just needs... some _fresh air_. That makes sense when he thinks about it. How can he be so shortsighted? Who can live all cooped up like this? No wonder she's pissed, he'd lose his mind under the same circumstances.

Carefully laying her down against the soaked sheets, he storms over to the window and punches the sturdy wood nailed into the old frame. It blocks out the view of The Narrows and stops her from seeing there's a world outside this apartment. If he broke his knuckles from slamming his fist through the thick boards, he can't feel it as the pieces fall to the floor.

The moonlight shines in through the broken part of the wall, letting the frigid winter air rush into the room. The cold should cause her to shiver and reach out towards him or the blankets to cover up her small body from harsh temperatures. Just _anything_... Even the slightest movement will do right now.

"Look... I'm willing to compromise! _See?"_ Kneeling back onto the mattress, he's at a loss when she doesn't move an inch. Not a shudder, a twitch from a muscle, or a grimace... Her skin didn't even prickle with goosebumps like it always does when it's freezing.

"Don't-Don't do _this_ to me... I said I'm _sorry_ , Sakura.." Dark eyes burn as he flops down on the damp silk, dragging her limp form onto his lap. Joker truly doesn't know what to do... His lip quivers, blinking hard at the unfamiliar emotions rolling through him. A while ago, he desired to experience pain, something that will either make him feel alive or dead, just _something_...

This isn't _it_.

The trembling in his limbs won't stop when he pulls her closer, burying his nose into the long pink strands. Wrapping his arms around her, the pounding in his chest _almost_ convinces him that it's coming from the pinkette. A gloved hand reached down, running his fingers over the small bump growing across her stomach. If Sakura isn't going to wake up, that means the baby won't either...

Hot, angry tears cause the greasepaint on his face to run down his tan skin into the pink hair that still feels so _soft_ to the touch. Leaning her head back, he presses his lips against hers, smearing red along her mouth and leaving the woman with a terrible smile she's unwilling to give him. Pulling back, he stares at her face, wishing that she'd just open her eyes, even if it's only to glare at him.

Pitch-black orbs widen at the dark marks along her jaw and pale neck. Those weren't there when he left this morning... He hasn't hit her in a while and her skin shouldn't have a single bruise. Prying the knife from her fingers in a blind rage, he lays her down against the bed and storms through the room.

 _Of course_... How couldn't he see it before? Sakura would never willingly leave him... She wouldn't have... Not in a million years.

Ripping the door off its hinges, Joker takes the stairs a couple at a time, barely seeing anything over the blinding white-hot anger. The world will pay their dues for each and every indiscretion against him. He's done playing games, for good. Tonight, Gotham will go up in flames and burn to the ground. Everyone and everything will be incinerated with it, including himself...

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, the goons that notice him covered in blood after coming from the apartment on the top floor scurry off as quickly as possible. Right now, there isn't a single thing Rocco can say or do to stop him.

"Harley, I have a surprise for _you_. Have you, ah, been a _good girl_?"


	2. Scattered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was originally a one-shot from a bit ago, but I decided to make it a five(?)-part story. Reading the messages asking to continue it and some weird dreams egged me on, so blame yourselves haha. Obviously, J isn't a sweetheart, and I tried to depict him closer to how I genuinely view him. Violent, abusive, manipulative, malicious, and enjoying others' discomfort—to put it lightly. If you're not okay with it, that's fine. There are plenty of other stories that have him in a better light, even some of my older work I'm revising at the moment (they're still violent, just towards others). I can't leave out the malicious part of him, no matter how I write him. He's not Joker anymore, in my opinion.

"M-Mista J…"

Joker's eye twitches at the hoarse voice, trying his best to ignore it. It's all _useless_. Why the hell is she even bothering? If this keeps up…

Right now, he needs to _concentrate_. His knees bang against the desk as they bounce from being too restless to listen to any commands. As long as he can keep his hands still… That's all that matters.

_'Nothing matters. Not anymore.'_

It's quiet now. No more clanging and bangs from the first floor. Harley doesn't have the strength to keep her crap up anymore. There isn't a single shout or curse coming from his men. No knives scrapping against surfaces as they mindlessly etch into crates, waiting for orders. Razors aren't banging against trays full of cocaine or some other bullshit. The sound of liquor bottles clinking around from the morons no longer pricks at his nerves.

Why?

_'They're all dead.'_

"Hahaha!" Joker can't help being afflicted by a sudden fit of laughter from remembering their faces. They were so shocked! It was _hilarious_. His gloved fingers gently lay the wires on the table, knowing what'll happen if he slips and connects the wrong one.

Death by laughter.

_How fitting._

Most of the time, the clown can control himself when there's a specific goal in mind. The only thing running through his head when flying down the steps was to ring the life out of the blonde bimbo. Sometimes, life decides to be funny. The moment he landed on the first floor and looked out at the sea of frightened men, a hand was in the pocket of his trench coat before even realizing it.

Logically, he knows whose fault this is. Does that matter? _Nope._ Everyone's to blame, one way or another. Rocco lucked out with an errand run or he'd be hanging next to Harley. No one's been under his employment as long as that man has. It's been years, and he's shown his loyalty more times than anyone before. And yet, the clown can't give two-shits.

_'If Rocco was here, maybe he could've done something.'_

Joker wants to punish the goon for his absence, even though he's the one that sent him out. It's simple to come up with a reason for each person having a part to play in this. Even the goddamn mailman that walks by in the mornings. It's easier than pointing a finger at himself. This _isn't_ his fault. Everyone else caused it and that's what he's sticking to.

This train of thought is what pushed him to pull out a pistol and start firing off. There's no time or patience for knives at the moment, despite being his preferred method of slaughter. Another thing? He carries _extra_ clips these days. With so much on the line, he didn't want to risk it. They finally came in handy when the first one ran out. He wasn't about to give any of these morons the opportunity to unload a single shot on him.

It all happened so fast, there wasn't a chance to enjoy it. The entire act was executed in a rage-fueled daze that didn't elicit a single bit of satisfaction. Most of his men were sent out earlier in the day, so only a dozen stragglers bit the bullet. The blood spraying everywhere, shocked screams ringing out, loud thuds from their corpses hitting the floor… It did nothing for him. The clown's body was there doing all the work, but his mind's elsewhere. Almost like he's watching a massacre through another's eyes with strings attached to his limbs, forcing them to move and keep going.

A mindless animal, foaming at the mouth with a thirst for blood that can never be rivaled. His anger's a fire scorching his body with a hatred so intense, it burns pitch-black. The rabid entity he transformed into only desires to snap the blonde in half with his jaws and tear her to pieces.

No one is to blame more than Harley. He warned her to stay away from the apartment on the top floor. How many times does he have to punch her to get his point across? She waits until he leaves to climb the stairs and take her jealous fury out on Sakura. What does that accomplish? Does hitting her make the clown feel any different? Will spitting on her change his mind? _No_. Those futile attempts only result in pain being distributed around the building in heavy doses. The men allowing the blonde to slip by being killed, his bunny left with bruises, and the former doctor receiving _severe_ punishment.

_'Should've killed her before... None of this would've happened if I followed my instincts. Fucking moron.'_

Joker knew better and doesn't know why he put a single thought into Rocco's words. Did that dumbass feel sympathetic towards Harley? He always has a soft spot for women the clown never shared. People all bleed the same when his blades pierce their skin.

Curling his lips, he snatches the wires off the table and gets back to work. Anything that takes concentration to drag his mind away from what's going on. He refuses to go back up there right now. The next time he does will be the last. That was already decided on his way to the first floor.

Staring at the multi-colored materials in his grasp, he's tempted to just connect them all and blow this entire goddamn building sky-high. What difference does it make? Everything's already gone and there's nothing left for him. Batman disappeared without a trace over a year and a half ago after Dent's death. The clown always hoped the flying rat would finally end him, but life doesn't take commands the way men do. With this last act, being killed by the 'Dark Knight' could've given him the death 'justice' demands while soiling the hero's hands with his filthy blood in the process.

_'Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!'_

Grabbing a small black box, Joker angrily feeds a cord through the hole he drilled into it. There's still more work to do in preparing the finale to the shit-show he's been performing for Gotham. Good thing he slowly readied everything for the past few years in case he decided to go through with it. Honestly, he didn't imagine doing it all in one shot but screw it. What's left to lose now?

 _"Sakura…"_ Her name slides off the tongue so easily, yet burns his lips. It comes out in a low grumble while he works, almost robotically. Nothing seems real anymore, almost as if he's floating through a terrible nightmare. Waking up from this is just asking for too much.

_She's dead._

It's a hard pill to swallow, especially when there's a lump in his throat. The pinkette's never coming back, taking _his_ child with her. The muscles in his face take turns twitching at the thought. It's just another blow to the clown on top of losing the Bat and _his_ woman. Life has a funny way of making people vanish.

_'Baby.'_

Boy. Girl. Doesn't really matter. Either way, they all belong to him. She's eighteen weeks pregnant and there were only twenty-two left. Almost _halfway_ to the finish line. If he at least had something of them left, there might've been a reason to keep going. No matter how _small_. Had she been full-term and he made it in time, Joker would've forced himself to cut the baby out. That brat is the result of his entire scheme, and the clown doesn't like to leave empty-handed. Not that he'd know what to do with it afterward...

_They're both dead._

His eyes burn from not blinking, trying to focus on the task at hand. They're completely bloodshot from abuse and the vessels rising to the surface in his unbridled anger. This isn't his fault in any way. _Nope_. Not his. That's what he keeps repeating to himself to finish this before it's over.

"Mista J!" Harley's louder this time, causing his jaw to clench and the box in his tight grip to break. He doesn't want to fucking hear it. Not the lies and excuses or her nonsensical ramblings. "P-Please, listen to me…"

Bolting up, the chair he's sitting on falls back and hits the floor. His entire body shakes just from the sound of her voice and if he didn't want her suffering to last, the bitch's throat would've been slit an hour ago.

Jerking his neck to the side, it cracks loudly as Joker tears his gaze away from the table towards the woman across the room. The special place in this building saved for those he truly wants to hurt. _The basement._ Harley doesn't deserve a quick death after taking something of his… No one steals from _The Joker_ and gets away with it.

Harley struggles to keep her head up, trying to meet his gaze. He can see it in her clear blue eyes. She's hoping to plead for her life, maybe even talk some sense into him. That's all useless at this point. He's far beyond reasoning and nothing will change that. His mind's already made up.

"What can you _possibly_ have to say to Mista J? _Hmm?_ That you're, ah, _sorry?_ This is all a misunderstanding? You did nothing?" She's already screamed, blubbered, and begged more times than should be allowed.

Stomping across the uneven concrete floor, the clown's bloodshot eyes are wide and full of vicious anger when he stares her down. No longer having the fire her 'character' possesses, _Harleen_ flinches as her bottom lip quivers. One glimpse of the scene and not a soul would ever guess the two used to go on crime sprees together. Robbing, killing, fucking. A seemingly never-ending violent cycle that was fun in the beginning.

This woman used to be a psychiatric consultant at Arkham Asylum that spent months trying to schedule an appointment with him. The top-brass finally granted her wish, and they started having sessions together. Sadly for her, Joker sees through people with no effort at all. He knows when they're lying and can read them like a book. It's always been a gift and a curse, yet never fails to give him an edge. Fifteen minutes into their first meeting, the clown already figured her out and knew what needed to be done. Seducing the blonde was a piece of cake. It only took a few 'dates' to have the doctor on her knees and wrapped around his fingers.

Harleen's fascinated with the complexities of the human mind, particularly criminals and serial killers. The 'Clown Prince of Crime' is all the above and some. Just his opinions on any given subject have her completely enthralled. She wants to open him up, to prod at the different pieces and observe them, before sewing everything back together in an unfamiliar form. The word 'rehabilitation' alone makes him scoff. No one, let alone _Dr. Quinzel_ , can ever change him.

It was boredom and the thought of coiling the puppet strings around her neck that caused him to make a move. Sex or partners were never something he needed and definitely didn't desire. Maybe his brain is just wired differently... Who knows? There have always been parts missing inside of him that are considered the building blocks of a 'human being'. Empathy, sympathy, remorse, mercy, reason, emotions, care, retaining a conscious... The doctors try to find those absent pieces of the puzzle and hope to jam them back in place to make him _whole_. Unfortunately for them, the manufacturer was careless with the product and never made sure it was all there before shipping him out.

"I-I _swear_ …" Tears spill over her lashes, running down the blonde's pallid skin. There's no end to them, and that's how he wants it to be. This will never stop for him, so why should anyone else have a reprieve? His dark eyes roam over her face, glossing over the discoloration. Red from her split bloody lip, blue and purple bruises along her jaw from his fist and neck from strangulation. That last one was hard to resist, but the idea of prolonging her suffering is too tempting. "Please… Just listen to me."

Begging always brought him so much entertainment. Witnessing a person completely unravel before his eyes is a sight that words can't thoroughly express. When a threat looms overhead, most succumb to their true nature and turn into animals. They fight back, run, or shrivel up under the pressure. He's fine with any of those options and adjusts his response accordingly. It takes finesse and creativity to manipulate the human body. To transcend violence into _art_. Any fool can jab a knife into someone with ease, yet there's much more to it than that. Smashing marble can be done, but ultimately it just crumbles to dust and becomes nothing. Taking a chisel and chipping away until it becomes a masterpiece takes copious amounts of concentration and dedication.

_And he's a master of his craft._

"I spent enough time listening to you, _Doctor_. That's where I messed up. Yep! Who'd imagine _me_ admitting to something? I shoulda killed you that first night. Mhm… Never thought it'd come to bite me in the ass like this!"

Since the moment they met, Joker's seen fear etched into her face countless times. It makes him cackle gleefully, wanting to see how far he can push it. No matter how terribly she's treated, Harley always stays, practically begging for more. She threw away her dream job, family, friends, everything. Committed heinous crimes with him, just to show her unwavering loyalty. Jumped headfirst down the rabbit hole in hopes he'll catch her and they can stay in the shadows together. Reality went right out the window and she embraced madness so enthusiastically, wanting an escape from her boring existence.

People don't _choose_ madness. Madness chooses _people_. There's a fine line he can see between those trying to immerse themselves in it and others genuinely afflicted by something they can't control.

Harley's eyes widen when a gloved hand slides into his trench coat pocket, already knowing from experience nothing pleasant can be in there. _Good_. At least one of them learned something from all of this. She struggles against the rope wrapped around her wrist, tied to one of the pipes along the ceiling. No one can get out of his knots. He just shakes his head with a humorless laugh at the foolish attempt. All that gymnastics training is useless now. This isn't his first rodeo, but it'll be the last. Might as well enjoy it.

Just from a single glance, Joker can tell her shoulders are dislocated. That's the _point_. It's funny how much she used to get a kick out of him tying her wrists above her head when they used to fuck. Not so enjoyable when the positions reversed with a little suspension added. The screaming seemed never-ending and _grated_ on his ears. Any other day, he would've happily danced around the basement while jeering at her predicament. Not today. He's far too gone for that and knows it.

If Joker wasn't so livid, this would've been _hilarious_. He feels like an angry cat getting ready to paw at a fuzzy bell dangling from a string that some bastard keeps bopping him with. The clown isn't in the mood for games. He'll ram that stick right up their ass after shoving the toy down their throat. That's him 'playing along'.

When he pulls out a blade and flicks it open, she sucks in a sharp breath. The clown knows she's waiting for the tip to pierce her skin, to make blood spurt everywhere as he laughs and keeps going at it. She's not wrong, but he has something else in mind right now.

The serrated edge cuts through the rope easily and the former doctor lands on the concrete with a loud thud as he turns away from her. The groans and whimpers sound pleasant, yet he wants something else to come from her mouth. Whatever Joker craves, he gets.

The gurney rattles when he drags it from against the wall to where she's laying on the floor, face down. There's barely enough energy to lift her head up and too much pain racking her lithe body. Thirty minutes hanging from the ceiling with someone's arms bent and hoisted behind their back would be taxing on a body, even with the endurance this woman possesses. They call is strappado, or 'corda', depending on who's explaining it. The act was a form of torture, before becoming popular with the BDSM crowd. The clown doesn't care either way as long as it elicits the shrieking he desires. If Harley was a little heavier, she really would've suffered from gravity tearing into her joints and muscles.

 _"C'mon"_ He snarls, pulling Harley up by her hair and ignoring the desperate cries for mercy. That's never been his forte and isn't about to start now. Too little, too late. She never showed it to anyone else, so what makes her different?

_'Reap what you sow. We all do in the end.'_

"Is there somethin' you'd like to say to me? _Hmm?_ Anything you want to, ah, _admit?"_ The clown tosses her onto the metal slab without a single care for the damage he's already done. Ignoring the strained whimpers from her swollen throat, he buckles her in and yanks the straps _tight_. She can't move anyway, but this ride isn't meant to be comfortable.

"How-How many times… do I have to tell ya?" Despite her eyes being just as bloodshot, she looks at him hard, trying to reason with him again. They both see how this will end, so what difference does it make? He knows she's thinking it too and doesn't give a shit. What's done can't be changed, but he still wants to _hear_ it.

A manic fit of laughter that shakes the entire gurney causes the clown's brow to furrow. Harley's eyes open wide as her cackle turns into hysterics and the sight makes his blood _boil_. The rage tearing through him is hard to contain, and it's been a struggle to keep it down to a simmer. He bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to fill his mouth with blood, trying to keep his mind on the task at hand. This is about drawing out a _confession_. To know without a shred of doubt it's this woman's fault everything fell apart and not his own.

"Heheh… Did… Did it ever occur to ya, _J—_ " Joker can't remember if she's ever referred to him that way before and he _doesn't_ like it. That's what Sakura used to call him. Not Boss, Joker, or Mista J. Just… _J_. She's saying this to get under his skin before he's literally under hers. "—that maybe she killed herself to get away from ya? Everyone knows how much she despised— "

His hand's around her throat before either of them realizes it, and the mouthful of blood he was nursing is spat right in her face. She grimaces and flails against the restraints, causing the warm liquid to run down her skin. The bright blonde hair tucked behind her ears becomes decorated with it, tainting the soft hue with his poison. Like everything else in the last hour, it's stained _red_.

 _"Fucking little bitch!"_ Her jaw cracks the moment his fists connect. He hopes it's broken, but can't see anything over the blaring red lights blinding him. It's impossible to stop himself when another crashes against her face, this time with a resounding crunch from the blonde's nose breaking under his knuckles.

 _"Gahh!"_ Joker's seething and can't reel it all back in. A gloved hand reaches up to tear at his hair like it's trying to punish him as well. He hates this woman for saying it, for voicing what he's been trying to strangle from the moment he stepped foot into his bedroom.

That maybe this _is_ his fault.

* * *

_"… J?"_

His lip curls up at the soft voice coming from the doorway, trying to ignore it. She's been standing there for twenty-five minutes now and he wonders how long she can keep it up for. It's not that he doesn't know she's there or didn't hear her. From the moment the bedroom door opened, his keen ears followed every step she took around the apartment, listening to her anxious pacing and deep breaths.

Joker's dark eyes droop while he focuses on the remote he's putting together. One mix-up and the explosive won't detonate properly when he needs it. These things take time _and_ concentration. The pinkette knows the consequences for interrupting his work, yet is _still_ standing there.

To be honest, the only reason he hasn't said anything is that the longer she's there, the more he's enjoying this. Glancing up towards the wall, his eye twitches as he searches his memories. This might be the first time she's come to him since this started. Usually, Sakura does her damn best to avoid him if possible— _which it's not_ —and tries to stay out of sight. He doesn't know how many times it takes to prove that's useless, but she's a _stubborn_ little bunny.

_'My bunny…'_

There's a strange satisfaction from her coming to his office and trying to get _his_ attention. The corner of his mouth quirks up with the small victory as he watches her from his peripherals. She probably doesn't notice, and that's perfectly fine. He's been waiting for something like this to happen for months, so is making her stand there for a half-hour so bad? The pinkette can keep at it until he's good and ready to bless her with his _affections_. When he feels it's enough and she _earns_ what he's been struggling to give her.

The plan was to last another thirty minutes, but Joker's patience is particularly thin lately. Between trying to track down the Bat, dealing with Harley's shit, and trying to subdue his fiery little doll… the clown's becoming frustrated beyond belief. No amount of planning or thinking is getting him anywhere these days. There's been no sign of Batman, the blonde's two seconds away from having her head caved in with a steel pipe, and his bunny doesn't want to be pet.

_He fucking can't stand it._

Nothing's been working out the way he wants. There aren't any issues with the usual crap, like pulling off jobs, recruiting, or indulging in violent acts to his heart's content. That's elementary stuff and always has been. The problem is what the clown truly desires is just out of his reach. He can manipulate and control everything else, but that only goes so far. Nothing's better than a real challenge, but seeing no results from all his efforts gnaws at him.

_'Heh. Maybe that's about to change.'_

When he finally turns to acknowledge her presence, dark eyes barely catch the pink tips of her hair before they disappear out of the frame. A growl rumbles in his chest as he tightens his grip on the screwdriver and stabs it into the wooden desk's surface. _That petty bitch_ … The moment he's ready to give her his undivided attention, she runs off somewhere.

Pushing back his chair, Joker works his jaw and gazes at the tool sticking straight up from his workspace. How infuriating… She should know better by now, but it seems the lessons never end. Doesn't the pinkette realize how _lucky_ she is? Harley would cry tears of joy if she received this kind of treatment. Apparently, she needs a refresher course... _again_.

He's gone above and beyond for her, only to receive the cold shoulder and little bites from trying to show his adoration. It's annoying, but nothing his hands can't rectify. What the hell does this woman _want?_ As long as it doesn't include leaving, then he can make it happen. Last time Joker demanded to know what he can do, Sakura's reply left her unconscious for two days.

**_"Kill yourself."_ **

Just the words replaying in his head for the hundredth time is enough for him to go knock her out. The way she smiled while saying that shit is equally maddening. She was being honest, and that only made it infinitely worse. Hearing that coming from her lips is like a tire iron to the ribs, knocking the air right out of his lungs. So, he did the same to her. It's important for couples to understand how each other feels, right?

Stalking out of the room, the same malicious energy coils beneath the surface of his skin, ready to burst out. His eyes drag over the furniture and items around the apartment, filling him with anger to justify his next actions. Everything in this place, including the apartment itself, he acquired for _her_. Does she show an ounce of gratitude?

 _Nope_.

Sometimes he plays a little game in his head, trying to pinpoint the reason for this utter lack of respect. The only thing the clown can come up with is that he spoils her too much. The same happens with an unruly child when they're given too much leeway or rewarded without doing anything to deserve it. Punishment is the only remedy for that behavior.

He freezes in the middle of the living room at the noises coming from down the hall. His head shifts to the side as he stands still, listening to the retching sounds filtering from the bathroom. Joker recognizes it right away from how often schmucks make them in the basement.

_'Sakura's throwing up?'_

Is it from standing there so long and looking at him? Or the thought of talking to him again? Does she make herself sick for going to his office in the first place? Each scenario's worse than the last and he finds starts spiraling down that staircase that ends with her begging him to stop.

A snarl rips through the apartment as he stomps towards the bathroom, rolling up his sleeves and preparing to shove the pinkette's face into her own vomit. If he makes her _that_ sick, then she can deal with the consequences.

Joker can hear the sink running when he zeroes in on his target, ready to unleash his vicious anger on the small woman. This is completely uncalled for. He doesn't work so goddamn hard to deserve this kind of treatment. If he wants shit, he'll squeeze it out of the blonde downstairs.

Kicking the door in, Sakura jumps and drops her toothbrush in the sink. Her startled expression only feeds his frenzy as she backs away from the counter towards the corner. Does she want to get away from him that badly? After everything he's done for her?

_Un-fucking-grateful._

The pinkette anticipates he's about to hit her and drops to the floor, instinctively raising her arms to block the blows about to come. The automatic response sends him _reeling_. Is that what she expects he'll do first? It usually is, but the fact that she thinks he's so predictable is outrageous. His hands clench into tight fists, shaking from the rage rolling through him.

"W-Wait!" For the second time in the last few minutes, the clown holds himself back. Normally he wouldn't, but something in her voice causes him to. It's not the same sound she makes when this happens. There's a command in there that doesn't come from a person just trying to avoid physical pain.

Joker smacks his lips and narrows gaze on her, noticing the deep breath she lets out when a hand doesn't crack across her face. It's insulting how relieved she looks that he's not pummeling her right now.

Crouching down in front of her, his head cocks to the side as he watches the small woman curling up on herself from his proximity. Sakura's knees push against her chest and the pinkette looks as if she'd like nothing more than for the floor to break open and swallow her up. The sight pisses him off and he exhales, attempting to calm himself down. If she's ballsy enough to come to his office, run off, and give a _command_ , then something's going on. Part of him is curious about this strange behavior and what brought her to the doorway in the first place.

"Ya got somethin' to say, doll? _Hmm?_ Somethin' ya wanna tell your daddy?" It's meant to be a joke to make her uncomfortable, but the reference causes a reaction he's not expecting. She bolts up from the floor and shoves him out of the way to get to the toilet.

His brows shoot up in surprise, completely beside himself from her actions. He tears his gaze away from the spot on the floor where Sakura was just sitting a second ago towards the porcelain rim her shaky hands' grip as she throws up again.

Joker's not sure what benevolent demon possesses him to slide across the tiled surface and pull her hair back, but he does. Gloved fingers gather the silky strands and hold them up while her head hangs over the toilet. Maybe he just doesn't want vomit in her hair or for it to ruin the sweet scent? Who knows? There's plenty of time to ponder his _own_ strange behavior later on.

When the pinkette finally emerges, tears stream down her pale face as a dry heave jolts her forward. Now he's not sure if he's the cause of this or she's genuinely sick. Perhaps that's what brought her to his office… It's not like she can just walk right out of the building to see a doctor or pick up medicine.

_'That means she came to me for help. Huh. Those lessons might be paying off.'_

The muscle in his cheek jumps at the thought. Did he overreact and draw the wrong conclusion? The clown's face relaxes while he stares at a random spot on the wall over her head, mindlessly letting his hand rub her back. Distantly, he notices the ridges along her spine are more apparent than before, dragging him back to the reason for coming in here.

 _"Hahh!"_ Sakura pushes herself back, gasping for air. She looks more tired and weak than he's ever seen before. If it's that bad, he might have to do something. What kind of owner would he be to leave his bunny in this state? A shitty one. What's the point of all this if she ends up dying or needs to go to the hospital? That can't happen... She used to work there and someone will recognize her pink hair from the missing person report on the news.

Giving the hair in his grasp a tug, the pinkette looks over her shoulder at him in a daze. Her eyes are glossed over with fresh tears spilling over as she catches her breath. His jaw clenches from watching her, debating on what to do while he sits on the floor. If he beats her now, they both know it'll be entirely his fault and has no excuse. There's never been a need for one, but he always justifies his actions internally without answering to anyone. He can come up with a reason to shift the blame onto her in an instant, whether it's a facial expression she's making or not popping up when he walks through the door.

These days, he just doesn't feel like going through the same motions every single time. It'd be nice to get the results he craves without them being forced. Joker can see deception from a mile away and knows when she's putting on an act. He tells himself that everything she does is of her own volition, but the realist in him is too sharp to allow those kinds of illusions. That realization leads to more violence from him and an even greater level of contempt from her. It doesn't take a genius to figure out the latter is the effect brought on by the former. The clown's just stubborn bastard who refuses to accept he's wrong about _anything_.

"Not feeling good, _bunny?"_ Green eyes narrow at his exaggerated frown and condescending tone, causing him to bark out a laugh at her reaction. She might not like him very much, but that'll change. Everyone gives in with the right kind of coercion. The clown yanks on the pinkette's hair until her neck cranes back far enough to look him in the face. She whines and latches onto his wrist, trying to ease the pressure the awkward position has on her back.

"S-Stop!" Sakura chokes out, digging her nails into the skin below his leather glove.

"I'll think about it if ya tell me what's wrong? How 'bout that, _sweetheart?"_ He grins wide and jerks his arm back, making Sakura cry out. The leather material has a wonderful texture that lets nothing slide through his grip, no matter how smooth it is.

"I—I think… I think..."

"Ya think what?! _Spit it the fuck out!"_ This stuttering bullshit is making his patience fly right out the door, along with any notions of going easy on her. He's a busy man and doesn't have all day. It's not like there's all the time in the world to spend together and he wants to make the most of it.

"I think… I'm _pregnant_ …"

The pink hair in Joker's grasp slips right through his fingers.

* * *

_"Do it."_

Gazing down at the object in her hand, the pinkette sucks in a sharp breath, closing her fingers around it. Squeezing her eyes shut, he wonders if she's praying from the expression on her pale face.

"Go. _Now_." It's not a request. He has a bad temper and now is _not_ the time to try pushing it. Sighing, she slowly turns around to saunter down the hall. Noticing he's right on her heels, Sakura suddenly stops to throw him a side-glance in confusion.

"What—What are you doing?!"

Why does his little bunny ask such asinine questions? Does she just want him to confirm her suspicions? It's not like there's a choice in the matter, anyway. He's on edge as it is, so what's the point in provoking him?

"I think it's, ah, pretty _obvious_."

Sakura looks at him like he's some kind of madman or something. Her lips part with words that can't find their way out as they open and close, not sure what to say.

"No!" If Joker wasn't so worked up, he might've laughed at her panic-stricken tone. Now's not the time for that shit, and he finds nothing about this even remotely funny. This is the most serious he's been in a long time. Realizing the sudden shout isn't doing the trick, she tries backtracking. " _Please_ , stay out here."

Bunny asks so _nicely_ , but no dice. For all he knows, this is all a ruse to get him to ease up on his heavy-handed petting. Women are deceptive little creatures that'll use any means at their disposal to get what they want. Completely untrustworthy and more than willing to use their bodies to their advantage.

To quote Friedrich Nietzsche, _"Everything in a woman is a riddle, and everything in a woman hath one solution — it is called pregnancy."_ He'll be damned if someone pulls a fast one on him, let alone a woman that barely reaches his shoulders.

_'Over my dead body.'_

"One of two things are gonna happen. We can go into the bathroom and get this over with, or you can do it right _here_ , right _now_. What's it gonna be? _Hmm?_ Take your pick." The clown can be considerate, now and then. He's not a _complete_ monster. From the disgust in her eyes, it doesn't seem that she agrees. It's apparently lost on her that two options are far more than he offers anyone else.

Sakura _still_ doesn't get it. This isn't up for debate, and will only end badly. The little minx must enjoy riling him up, because she goes for it every time.

"You… You can't. That's too— "

"Too _wha-t?_ Humiliating? Embarrassing? Shameful? Disgusting? Hoh, _sweetheart_ … You know I don't give a shit about _that."_ Stepping closer, she flinches when he reaches out to wrap a hand around the back of her neck. His fingers dig into her nape, massaging the muscles beneath her skin as a subtle warning. Joker isn't sure why he's even bothering instead of lashing out. Maybe he's just feeling benevolent today. "Either move it or start squatting before you make me angry. Do you _want_ me to hurt you?"

Sakura's bottom lip quivers as a fresh round of tears starts forming. He always enjoys watching the process. Whatever ignites them— _usually him_ —how they begin at the ducts and run along the brim towards the corners, then when they finally trail down her pale skin. That's happened so many times, it's almost a routine he revels in. The entire act is so fascinating to witness.

Slumping his shoulders, Joker leans down to be eye-level with her and raising his brows to get the point across that he's waiting for an answer. Her eyes close with a choked sob, realizing the futility in arguing. If there's one thing she understands about him, it's that he doesn't make idle threats. He'll force her to piss right there without a single care if that's what it takes to get this done. If he can make men larger men do it under duress, then a small woman won't be a problem. She has nothing under that slip anyway, so it'll be _easy_. There are a multitude of ways to go about this if she wants to play games and he'll have fun doing it.

"No… I don't. That's our biggest problem, isn't it?" A hollow laugh follows the remark, causing him to grimace. Green eyes stare off to the side when she says it, refusing to meet his gaze. It's the only way she can bring herself to talk to him this way, and he's not sure what pisses him off more, between that and the words themselves.

"You're right. Our biggest problem is that _you_ provoke _me_ , knowing damn well what the consequences are. You don't listen to anything I say... Always makin' this harder than it needs to be. Don't bitch when you bring it on _yourself_. Even a dog can figure out when to stop pulling the same shit if they're hit enough, but you…" Joker's lips pull back over his teeth, baring them to her disgust. The pinkette's revulsion only serves to fuel his rage. Rolling his head to the side, a loud crack resounds from his neck, releasing a diminutive amount of tension that constantly afflicts him. " _Heh_. You just never learn. It's a shame, babydoll. Thought you were brighter than that, but it seems I, ah, _underestimated_ your intelligence. Don't worry. I can be patient until we get it just _right."_

The pinkette doesn't say a word, rooted to the spot and staring at him. His eye twitches, waiting for some comeback to give him an excuse to act out. People are easier to manipulate when they believe it's their own fault something goes wrong. That's what this is. Just a game of submission and dominance where he's the winner and her, the perpetual loser.

Seeing the look in her eyes, a deep growl builds in his chest. He hates _that_ look and it drives him up a wall. Bright green dims, turning into something that prods him in the side. It's a simple task to figure out how other people feel and what's going on inside. He's always had the uncanny ability to read others and figure out what makes them tick. It's necessary to take them apart and tinker around, before smashing everything to pieces. The clown can either put them back together or burn what's left to ash. Most usually _beg_ to become whole again, even if it's not in their original form. No one's ever the same after he toys with them.

This woman doesn't want him to put her back together. That was the point in breaking her in the first place. Harleen implored him to smash her and be reformed in his image, which he obliged to. She wanted to discover her true self and a different world than the one she trudged through for years. The gratitude for her freedom comes with unwavering loyalty and everlasting admiration. If only he can strip those aspects from the blonde and sew them into Sakura, everything would be peachy keen.

The pinkette has nothing but contempt for him, and it's infuriating. No amount of gifts or petting changes anything. Even dogs lick their master's hand when they're given food. She's a rebellious little snot he won't wipe away. Countless times he's done things for her that would've had Harley performing somersaults and waterworks. The problem is that she compares him to other people, so the laborious tasks seem _insignificant_.

Grunting, he uses the grip on Sakura's nape to steer her towards the bathroom. There's no point in putting this off any longer. He needs to _know_. She doesn't put up much of a fight after a _firm_ squeeze and pads across the wooden floor.

It's almost mindlessly that Joker opens the door and flicks on the light in the bathroom. Shoving her towards the toilet, he pays no mind when she stumbles and lands in front of it, smacking her knees against the tiled surface. Wrapping a gloved hand around her forearm, he rips the pinkette off the floor, ignoring the protests when he hikes up her dress.

"S-Stop! I don't _need_ your help! I'm perfectly capable of doing this on my own!" Sakura hisses, smacking his hands away. If his mind wasn't divided at the moment, the words would've earned her a slap. He despises when she mentions how much she doesn't need him. Not him, his money, attention, or company… _Nothing_. There isn't a single part of him or anything he has to offer that she wants.

**_"Kill yourself."_ **

Joker leans up against the wall to stop himself from beating her black and blue for the insults. It's a struggle to avoid her face, but that's a sacrifice he's willing to make. It's one of his favorite parts on the pinkette, besides what's between her legs.

_'Speaking of which…'_

The dark pits in his sockets don't waver or trail anywhere else as she stares at him, hoping he'll look away. _No chance_. He wants to make sure she doesn't pull some shit right under his nose. His bunny can be cunning when she thinks his guard's down. Yeah, right... Nothing goes unnoticed by him, but people like to believe they're slick.

"Hurry it up." Sakura's face scrunches up and flushes from him watching her. He twirls his finger in the air to signal that she's expected to do this right now. It's in her best interest to stop screwing around, knowing how impatient he is. This doesn't have to get ugly if she complies. Sometimes, he thinks the pinkette's bitterness is the only thing left for her to use against him. Is there some stupid hope that he'll get fed up and say, _'Okay, that's enough. You can go home now!'_ or something along those lines? That'll never happen as long as he's breathing. No one else calls the shot _or_ rejects him. Not Sakura, or Batman, but they delight in causing him trouble. It's as if their purpose in life is to tantalize him, then run off at the drop of a hat. Then again, his baser-self relishes the chase.

There's a different satisfaction he gets from the two important figures in his life. He and the Bat constantly hunting each other gives him a rush that causes his eyes to roll back just at the thought. It's a game of wit and ingenuity the clown wants to play for eternity. Dancing with Batman while the world burns around them is a dream he plans to bring to life. Nothing beats two men tearing each other to pieces, completely enthralled and high from adrenaline. This woman satisfies a separate set of urges. Her presence alone strokes his ego and the desire to have something that's entirely _his_. He relishes pursuing the Bat and keeping Sakura under his thumb, but those circumstances can't switch. That'll _kill_ the entertainment. Caging the flying rat isn't the goal, and he'll hobble the pinkette if she runs again. Neither will give Joker what he desires, but there's still time.

_'Whatever...'_

_Shame_.

It's written all over her face as she takes the cap off the pregnancy test. What a useless emotion… Is there any point to it? It's easy to recognize in others, but not in himself. The clown doesn't think he's even capable of feeling anything like that. He's already seen every inch of her and knows the ins and outs of the human body better than the back of his hand. A little piss isn't a big deal. He's seen _much_ worse from coming out of people, usually from his own ministrations.

She can't bear to meet his gaze when reaching between her thighs with the test and it causes his lips to curl up. There's something so… _endearing_ about her expressions when she's utterly humiliated. If the pinkette realized it only pushes him to do it more often, then maybe she'd stop reacting that way. Hopefully not, because he gets a thrill from it. Whether it's stringing Sakura up like a puppet or trying to hide her face in the pillows when his cock's buried in her ass, it's all fucking _beautiful_ to witness.

It takes a bit of coaxing to get there, but it's all worth it. He can be patient with something he wants. There's more fun in pushing her to ask politely for it, then just _taking_ it. As he said, he's not a _complete_ monster. The situations are manipulated, yet when everything's said and done, she can only cry and blame herself for letting it happen. This is all her fault, after all. She shouldn't have been walking around so carelessly and brought a stranger into her home.

His jaw shifts when she slaps the test onto the counter, quickly grabbing toilet paper and going about her business. He doesn't understand what she's so embarrassed about… It's not like he says anything demeaning about her bodily functions. That's probably the only thing he's left alone.

"Well, I guess we wait…" Sakura's voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. It's not clear if she's talking to him or herself, but he can hear the trepidation laced in her words. She's scared, yet he can't find any satisfaction in it this time.

_'Five minutes, just to make sure.'_

Joker nods to himself, staring at the white and pink object on the counter. Honestly, he doesn't know how to feel about any of this. A baby isn't something he's considered before, but now with the possibility right at his feet…

Chewing on the corded scar tissue lining the inside of his cheek, his eyes flicker from the test towards the woman silently waiting on top of the toilet. His gaze lands on her hands anxiously wringing themselves together. For some ungodly reason, he wonders what she thinks about this. Will the pinkette be excited? Completely lose her shit? Or try to use this against him for her own benefit? There are so many directions this can go, depending on the results. How will he react? Should he be angry or indifferent? What is she expecting of him?

_'Hmm?'_

A thought filters through his mind before it can be snuffed out. Maybe this will be a _good_ thing. After all this time, she barely has any semblance of self-preservation left to do what he wants. Pain and threats only go so far before they lose their power. A baby might force the pinkette to be more compliant. It'll solidify whatever _this_ is.

His dark eyes light up at the thought. This can be the edge he needs to really make this work. Glossing over Sakura, he wonders what it'll look like to see her body change from something of _his_ inside her. That'll be glorious to witness… All while knowing it's his doing. This was bound to happen, eventually. She hasn't had birth control after being locked in here and he cums in her at every turn after coming back from a job.

What did either of them expect?

"Oh, _no_ …" Sakura jumps off the toilet and leans over the counter, staring in disbelief at the test. Faster than either of them expects, he's pushing her out of the way to see for himself. Her word won't convince him of _anything_.

His cold eyes fly open at the two bold lines, almost in disbelief. She's _pregnant_. Part of him wants to get one of the morons' downstairs to get a dozen different brands just to make sure, but there's no point. This is real and happening regardless of how many tests they use. That explains her recent behavior and vomiting. She's having 'morning sickness' and her hormones are out of whack.

It takes a second to realize he's alone in the bathroom. Tearing his eyes away from the results, the clown's ruined lips part with a heavy breath. For the first time in a while, he's not sure what to do. It's like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over his head at seeing those double lines mocking him.

Hearing loud sobbing from the bedroom, his feet numbly drag him towards the source of the racket. Standing in the doorway, Sakura's sitting on the edge of the bed, crying her eyes out. Noticing him leaning up against the frame, she abruptly stops to glare at him. It's shocking to find himself with nothing to say. No barbs on his tongue or anything mean bubbling up in his chest. This is the perfect opportunity to antagonize the pinkette and push her over the edge. To shove this in her face so she knows he's the victor and to learn her place. It's always been very clear where that is.

_Beneath him._

_'Why isn't anything coming? This is too good… Why hesitate now?'_

Joker just watches her, almost in a daze-like state. His hatred simmers under the surface, never turning off and ready to boil over. Staring at the distraught woman, he doesn't know where it is at the moment... like it's taking a nap to give them a small reprieve. Nothing ever lasts though, and it'll come back with a vengeance when they least expect it.

 _"I hate you…"_ He almost didn't register the words, yet the tone is _unmistakable_. She's said this before and learned to regret it. Her eyes are darker than usual, almost emerald in appearance and gleaming from the tears brimming over. "I hate you so fucking much. I hate you!"

Pursing his lips, the clown takes a few measured steps forward. The feelings briefly lost in his surprise rear their ugly little heads.

"You hate me, huh? I don't think that really, ah, _matters_ now. You're stuck with me, whether or not you like it. Might as well get used to it." He barks out a laugh when his mangled mouth finally starts moving. It quickly dies from the expression on Sakura's face. Her lip curls up into a snarl and it reminds him _too_ much of himself.

 _"Do I?_ Your little _monster_ won't last, anyway. You'll just beat it out of me before long, won't you? No point in you being so goddamn happy. A piece of shit like you won't be able to resist going _that_ long." She laughs and the tears keep coming, creating a twisted picture he would've loved to see any other day.

_'Little monster?'_

What she said sends him into a vicious fury even _he_ can't control. The jabs are a thin blade digging right under his skin in a sawing motion, hoping to flay him alive. Tremors run through the clown's body as his fists pulse, itching to reach for the knife in his pocket.

"Go ahead. Kill me! You'll be doing everyone a favor!"

A gloved hand cracks across Sakura's face. A heavy swing he throws his weight into that knocks her back against the mattress. His hand stays raised, preparing to deal out another one the moment more poison spills out.

 _"Little bitch!"_ Joker snarls, barely restraining himself from lunging forward and beating the crap out of her for this. His jaw snaps angrily, stalking closer to the bed to loom over her. Nothing comes from the pinkette as she lays across the bed. His eyes narrow at the discoloration on her face from the blow. It's already starting to swell… That was a good one.

_'She's unconscious…'_

Clicking his tongue, he flops down next to her on the edge of the bed. Finding a spot on the wall to glare at, it's a struggle to calm down. This is exactly what he means about her provoking him. They can't have a single pleasant day, huh? And here he was feeling a bit…

_'How do I feel? Does it even matter? Nope. Nothing matters.'_

* * *

Slamming the door behind himself, Joker stomps through the apartment in a _foul_ mood. Despite combing through every nook and cranny, the Bat hasn't left any clues that lead to his current whereabouts. It's so… _infuriating_. To leave him hanging off the ledge of a building and disappear like this. _How rude._ No one walks away from him and thinks it's over. He'll find whatever cave that bastard's hiding in, even if it's the last thing he does.

Yanking off his trench coat, it's tossed to the floor without a glance as he stalks through the living room. Two weeks ago, he found out Sakura is pregnant. After she 'fell asleep', he left and hasn't come up to the top floor even once. Running the streets and taking his anger out on others was a better option. Time and space, with copious amounts of blood. That's what he needed and better them than chopping her to pieces. Going through with it _might_ be something he'll regret later on.

_'Regret…'_

Another useless notion that belongs right in the gutter with _shame_. There's no point to holding onto anything so irrational. It only keeps people from acting on their instincts and doing what they want. Barriers that create hesitation need to be torn down and left in ruins, along with those that try to reinforce them.

Sakura isn't in sight, but he knows she's here. There's always someone to make sure nothing goes in or out of this building without his approval, especially the pinkette. If she tries escaping again…

"Tch." Walking into the bedroom, he glances around but doesn't see a hint of pink anywhere. Right now, he doesn't have it in him to do this. It's been a _long_ two weeks. With the quiet and solitude, there's been plenty of time to think everything through. Honestly, he never wanted a kid or put a _single_ thought towards it. No one would make a worse parent than him, and that's a _fact_.

There's no doubt that Sakura will be an exceptional mother… He watched her during the shifts at the hospital, caring for patients. She's maternal and understanding, always trying to do her best. Spending more time than necessary to ensure people's comfort and conversing with them. It really pissed him off. The pinkette was the same way when he injured himself and waited outside of her building, knowing when she'd walk by after work. It was such a strange experience yet worked perfectly to get inside and figure her out. Marching up to someone half their size with his appearance has hilarious results, yet doesn't have the angle he was quite looking for.

_'Didn't change anything... Still had the same effect.'_

Sitting down on the bed, Joker toes off his battered dress shoes and lays back, staring up at the ceiling. A sigh escapes his lips, feeling exhausted from his mind constantly being on overdrive.

_'Never a moment's rest, huh?'_

"… J?"

Leaning up, his eyes droop at the small figure standing in the doorway. He should still be angry at her for all the shit she said last time… Hell, how many ways did he imagine killing her during the two-week hiatus? Some of the ideas played through his head more than once, each worse than the last.

_'Little minx…'_

The swelling and bruises have already faded. Letting his eyes graze over her form, she looks better than the last time he was back. Perhaps someone's starting to eat more? Guess leaving his bunny a bowl of pellets showed her to appreciate actual food after a few days of taking nibbles and tossing the rest out the window.

_'Heheh… She's not a slow learner, just stubborn.'_

Sakura takes a hesitant step forward as he watches her like a hawk, wondering what she's up to. It's not like her to come to him, especially after an incident. Granted, he usually only leaves for a day or two before coming back.

_'Can't help myself, can I?'_

Curling his lips, Joker shifts on the mattress as she pads across the floor, stopping right between his knees. If this was any other day, he'd expect a blade to come out from under that slip and try to find a home in his chest.

_'Is she gonna pull something again? Go ahead… It'll just excite me.'_

There's a strange serenity about the pinkette that causes his brow to quirk up and suspicion crawl up his spine. Her expression, aura, even the look in those green gems. There's something peaceful about her the clown hasn't seen since this entire thing began, and it's throwing him off.

"Hmm?" Craning his neck back, he narrows his gaze on the small woman. What the hell happened in the last few weeks? Bunny usually hides, yet has been poking her head out recently. Maybe having a piece of him inside her is making the pinkette more daring? Despite having so much time to think, nothing smart comes out when he opens his mouth. There were dozens of crude remarks and digs right on the tip of his tongue, ready to spring out to slice her up… Where the hell are those little bastards now?

Small hands reach out to grab the gloved one resting on his bouncing knee. Curiosity keeps him still, wanting to see what the pinkette's trying to do. Giving a tug, he lets his arms stay limp as she moves it forward, pressing his open palm against her pelvis.

"I don't want to fight, J. _Please_ … Can you let me have this, at least?" Her voice is softer than it has been in months, losing some bite she saves specially for him. He knows what this is and why she's doing it. Sakura was distraught learning about the pregnancy and made that _very_ apparent. Two weeks alone must've given her some perspective about everything. There's no leaving or getting out of this, so might as well accept it.

Dragging his eyes from the pinkette's face, Joker stares at the hand in her grasp. It's right over the spot where a part of _him_ is forming… That's such a strange thought. This shouldn't even be happening, let alone either going through with it. He can't see himself caring for anyone, let alone a _brat_. That'll be her job... He's only the sperm-donor. Bunny better not expect him to change diapers or sing any rock-a-by bullshit. That's _not_ happening, and she should be grateful that he doesn't toss them both from the top-floor window.

_'This is just a way to make her behave. I'll provide the money, but that's it. If she asks for anything else, there's gonna be problems.'_

"Heh. That all depends on _you_." His fingers massage her pelvis through the silky fabric, feeling the slight movements from her deep breaths. Despite appearing calm and collected, he can tell there's anxiety right under the surface. She's afraid of how he'll react. The last time they saw each other, it ended with her unconscious and sprawled out on the bed. Is she weighing her options and figures finally obeying him will work out better than being a snot-nosed little brat?

"On _me?"_ A scoff from the small woman causes his jaw to clench. He already knows what she's thinking. Everything's _his_ fault and she's just an _innocent_ little bunny locked up in her mean master's cage.

"Yeah." Pulling his hand away, Joker grasps her hips, feeling the sharp bones sticking out. They weren't like this when he first brought her here… Even if she put on a pound or two, it's not enough. Perhaps it's best to sit there and _make_ her eat, so there's no chance of it going out the window.

"Is that so?" The pinkette does something that _completely_ shocks his system. Slender hands reach out to hold the clown's face, causing him to freeze. She's never done anything like _this_. Usually, it's a barrage of pushing and scratching, but this is wholly different.

The tips of her fingers trace along his scars, roaming over every dip and curve. She feels them with unusual curiosity and he doesn't know how to react. No one's ever had the balls to touch them in such an… _intimate_ way. Sakura's eyes follow the motions as if something about them is fascinating to her.

_'I would've punched Harley for trying.'_

Joker's not sure _why_ he's allowing this to happen. The only person who's gotten close to his ravaged mouth is Batman with a heavy right-hook. He wouldn't let anyone besides him pull this shit. Despite that, here they are. Right now, he should pummel her for being so cocky.

_'Fuck….'_

A groan builds up in his chest from the soft pads caressing the puffy, raised skin around his mouth. It feels _good, and_ he wants to be pissed, but can't find the reserves of vicious anger to dip into. How bizarre… That violent energy is _always_ simmering just under the surface, waiting for any slight against him to burst out and cause mayhem. It's lying dormant for just a little while.

Sakura's eyes are heavy as she stares at the jagged marks carved into his skin, and it gives him an unfamiliar sensation. Is this the angle she's going for? Where they find a way to manipulate each other through any means? At the moment, it really doesn't matter. The clown's getting what he wants, and she's not about to get beaten. It's a win-win situation if she keeps this up until the instant that dam bursts and he starts all over again.

 _"J…"_ Using the clown's shoulders for leverage, she swings her leg over to straddle his thighs. Is this how Sakura thinks she can make life easier on herself? If it is, she's not _too off_ the mark. His list of demands are reasonable and she's more than capable of accommodating them.

"Then you're going to, ah, _be-have_ for now on? Is that what you're sayin'?" Dark eyes bore into her and it's too much. She can't hold Joker's gaze and opts to bury her face into his dress shirt. It's _easier_ that way. Slowly, the pinkette nods, trying to hold herself still against the tremors threatening to give away her inner turmoil. It's all useless because nothing escapes his notice.

His lips curl up into a nasty sneer, reveling in the victory she's so _willingly_ giving him. It was only a matter of time before she realized how futile all these attempts are.

_"Good."_

* * *

Joker's shoulders raise high, ready to go on the attack. Any restraint that may have been present has long dissolved, leaving him as nothing more than a rabid animal. There's no point in pretending he's a man anymore. Where has that gotten him?

"You… I've done everything ya ever asked of me, J. _Everything_ … And… ya still threw me away… for someone that hates you." Harley croaks from the gurney, no longer carrying the slight sense of self-preservation that's kept her alive since Arkham. Maybe it was never there to begin with. Not if she was so desperate to be a part of him, knowing what that entails. As a psychiatrist, she knew exactly what he is and _still_ went for it.

Glaring down at the small woman, he can see her flickering between Harleen and Harley. They are two separate people with the same desires and dreams. The doctor in her always hopes to cure him of this insufferable madness she thinks he's afflicted by. The other wants to spend her life in torment while torching the city by his side.

By now, he thought she would've realized that nothing ever lasts and always goes down in flames. One way or another, _everything_ burns. Her, him, Sakura, the baby, his men, this building, Gotham, everyone in it… It starts and ends at some point, all while decaying in the process.

Joker's fingers pulse around the blade's handle, without lifting it back up. No, he isn't holding himself back for some stupid notion of not wanting to snuff the blonde's life out. That's shit doesn't happen. He never hesitates with violence. This is only a brief pause to decide what will hurt most out of what's left.

Harley still refuses to confess, no matter what he does. Perhaps the last few years have given her too much endurance for pain, but there are always ways to rectify that. It can _always_ get worse. Aggravating dental nerves, pressure points, bone-breaking, flaying little patches of skin at a time, ripping nails out… Don't even get him started on eyes. There are so many approaches to make people talk. The human body is a funny little joke that can repair itself to a certain extent over time, yet falls apart so _easily_. The same can be said for the mind and spirit, but those are far more difficult to heal. The worst scars are the ones people can't see.

"Did ya… ever love me?" The end is near, and this is what she wants to know? After all this time, has Harley really learned _nothing?_ What a ridiculous question… He's incapable of feeling something useless like that. Rage, obsession, violence, hatred, and amusement all wrapped up in one twisted body. That's what _The Joker_ is, and his existence is to prove a point while having fun along the way.

Anything before becoming this is a distant memory, long-forgotten and unwanted. He might've collected some possessions he wanted to keep, but that's all gone now. This is exactly what he gets for straying off the designated path and becoming greedy. Now everyone's on the chopping block for it. This entire experience only proved to him how worthless emotions truly are and to leave sleeping dogs lie.

_'And now it's over.'_

"Or… just _her?_ All this… _Hah_. I guess I was wrong 'bout ya, Mista J… Never thought it was true, but turns out… you're still just a man, after all." Joker knows what she's doing, and it's _working_. Her words drive into him like pins, piercing through his skin, and going straight for the nerves. He can _feel_ his eyes dilating and the blood vessels bursting in a furious frenzy from her verbally prodding his sides. The blonde wants to antagonize him to end her suffering. The longer she's alive, the worst this becomes. She's been right beside him and laughed hysterically at others' pain while he toyed with them in horrendous ways. It's not so funny being on the opposite end of a blade, is it? "Sakura didn't care about ya, but I did… I _always_ have. And you… not even once?"

_"Nope."_

Everything turns _red_. His vision, the fluids spraying all over him and running over the gurney's sides, what's left of the whites in his eyes... He can't stop himself and wouldn't, even if it was possible. Nothing matters anymore. There's no point in quitting now. This is all her fault, even if she refuses to admit it.

His hand gripping the blade has a mind of its own, blindly shredding and stabbing at everything it can. It's only distantly the sound of metal-on-metal registers in the clown's ears when he misses, clanging against the gurney's hard surface. Dulling the weapon's sharp edge isn't something he cares about. Even a chipped knife is lethal in his grasp.

When the red fog passes, the first thing Joker notices are the blue eyes staring up at him. Wide and cloudy, without a single spark they once held. As his vision clears, he glances around wildly, looking at the mess he made.

_Blood._

It's everywhere, and now there's no one upstairs to clean it up. They're dead, too. Then again, who isn't at this point? All that's left is himself and Gotham, but that'll be remedied soon.

Scowling at the blonde, he wipes some of the blood from around the scars with the sleeve of his trench coat. Another useless action. All that does is smear it into the remnants of greasepaint streaked across his face. Now his clothes are soaked with Harley _and_ Sakura's blood.

How funny…

Two women in his life hated each other for one reason. _Him_. Most men would've been flattered or took advantage of the situation, hoping to have threesomes while being catered to like a master. That wasn't happening, and he didn't want that. One chick's enough to wrangle in without dealing with another. Harley's an extremely jealous woman and this was bound to blow up in his face, eventually. She was puzzled when he suddenly wanted to acquire a new building and furniture. Always asking questions that were answered with the same response. A 'mind your own fucking business' with a quick slap across the face.

Shit really hit the fan that first night he brought the pinkette home... along with a few heads. Harley didn't want to accept the idea of being replaced and called his actions a betrayal. It wasn't since she never mattered or was _his_ woman. So, how can Sakura be a substitute for a position the blonde failed to fill?

Things only became worse when he stopped fucking her after snagging his bunny. The clown goes missing for a week, then shows up with another woman after she spent the entire time frantically searching for him. No one knew his whereabouts while he was doing research on the other side of Gotham. None of them needed that information, and he only answers to himself.

_'Fuck it. Means nothing now…'_

Tearing his gaze from the mutilated body strapped to the gurney, laughter bubbles up in his chest. It seems to be the night for everyone to pay the pied piper. That's exactly what he'll do.

Joker's clothes, hair, hands, tools… They're all covered in blood and sweat, and he can't hold in a raucous cackle at the sight. It's all just too hilarious. This is how he imagined looking before going out, but there's one thing missing. _Batman_. The flying rat was meant to pull the trigger, not himself.

_'Can't ever get anything I want, huh?'_

Stomping away from what remains of his old toy, the clown zeroes in on the desk, collecting the remotes he worked on. Can't bite the bullet without a fireworks display… Over the years, he strategically placed explosives throughout the city for a multitude of reasons. Just like how he filled Gotham General to the brim a while back. No one ever knows when they need a good threat or diversion. Everything will go off at one time and the city will be left in ruins, the same way he always pictured it.

"Heheh!" A front row seat to the biggest shit-show in this city's history. What a way to leave his mark and say goodbye. Wherever the Bat is, he'll regret hiding after seeing his precious city up in flames. For all the clown knows, he might not even be in the state, but news will spread all over the country within 30 minutes of pressing this button.

_'Beautiful…'_

Sliding it into his coat pocket, Joker snatches the large canisters of gasoline off the floor beside his workspace. Two will be more than enough to get the job done. He's already thought this out while descending the stairs from his apartment. Everything will burn, including _him_.

Splashing the pungent fluids around, he makes a trail from the basement to the first floor. The flames will make a streak throughout the building before engulfing it entirely. The steps, his tools, Harley, the men he steps on and over across the floor… They're all doused with gasoline, sparing nothing along the way. The only thing he's grateful for is always choosing the biggest portable containers, so there's no need for another trip.

Making his way upstairs, Joker breathes in the fumes greedily, letting himself become lightheaded. It's always been a scent he enjoys, no matter the circumstance. He might as well have used it as cologne from how often it sticks to him.

_'It's a fire-sale. Everything must go!'_

A hollow chuckle pushes through his ruined lips, almost forced. Despite having an exciting end, nothing transpired the way he hoped. Harley's finally dead, he enjoyed having a killing-spree one last time, and the city's about to be blown sky-high.

The clown's shadowy eyes droop when they land on the broken door to the apartment… No, he doesn't feel good about any of this. What's this sensation called? The one that's weighing his chest down, yet makes it seem so empty at the same time?

_'Doesn't matter…'_

Shaking it off, Joker splashes more gasoline to finish the path he's made. There's a pack of cigarettes and lighter in his pocket to celebrate the occasion. Might as well light one up for the finale.

Stepping through the threshold, he drags his gaze over the furniture throughout the living room. _All for nothing_ … The clown always knew everything was pointless and should've stuck to belief. Look at all the problems he surrounded himself with from being so goddamn greedy.

**_"Or… just her? All this… Hah. I guess I was wrong 'bout ya, Mr. J… Never thought ya had it in ya, but turns out… you're still just a man, after all."_ **

_'Fucking whore…'_

Shaking out the last few drops at the end of the hall, Joker throws the can through the broken bedroom door. His eyes narrow on the shattered wood and busted frame. He doesn't want to go back in _there_ but has to. It's the best spot to watch the fireworks before throwing a match from the bed to start the show. All the explosives will go off throughout Gotham, while the building burns. Him, Sakura, the baby… They'll all turn to ashes as if they never existed in the first place. It's almost poetic in a way. Maybe they didn't exist, and this is all a drawn-out hallucination. Who knows? Either way, he's dragging the city to hell with him, so they can be tormented even in the afterlife by his antics.

Taking a deep breath, Joker grimaces and closes his eyes in the doorway, almost reluctant to see _it_ again. An hour ago, the sight completely unhinged him and that might happen again. Having no control over a situation sends him reeling with unbridled fury. He's so used to being an entity that decides everything's fate, that realizing there's no power in his grasp sends him spiraling into a vicious frenzy.

_'It's all in my hands now… What's in my pocket holds the fate of an entire city.'_

Joker's lips curl into a snarl with agitation. Not a single part of this was in his original scheme. Everything became a jumbled heap at some point, and he knows exactly when. He should've just stayed in the warehouse instead of scouring the streets.

Opening his eyes, they widen as he takes in the scene again.

"Ha… Hah… _Haha_ …

A nasty mess… The ruined door to the bedroom lying on the floor. Objects thrown around carelessly. The wooden boards from the window shattered in pieces from his fists. Sheets strewed around, covered in blood.

And no body.

_"Hahahaha!"_


	3. Fragments

"Rghh!... Heheh…"

Rocco keeps his eyes squeezed shut, but it's useless. He can still hear the noises and they're just as bad. The only thing he can hope for is that whatever malevolent God is out there will let this end soon.

_'It'll never end, will it?'_

He's not sure if the other guys are still watching. One of them already ran down the alley to throw up, and that only made the Boss cackle louder. That laugh… It haunts their days and nights, whether or not they're asleep. No one escapes the Joker, except through death. Even then, no one really knows if it ends there. That may be the place he continues to torment his victims when his eyes close.

"Hahh… Roc, toss 'em in the dumpster. We gotta go." A nasty snicker follows the order and his stomach turns. Why him? There are ten other guys here that can do this. It's a struggle to pry his lids open, and when he does, the sight is enough to cause even the toughest man's stomach to churn.

The Boss is breathless from the unnecessary effort he put into this 'work of art'. He sways on his feet, gripping a metal bat in his gloved hand. From head to toe, he and the weapon are drenched in blood and other bodily matters the goon refuses to think about.

_This isn't what he signed up for._

Five years ago, the Boss wasn't like _this_. Sure, he was screwed up and pulled terrible shit, but who didn't in The Narrows? The mafia ran the city and people went missing all the time. Everyone was always busting heads and taking names, trying to get ahead in the game. Violence, drugs, weapons, drugs, money… That's how it's always been.

J changed that 'game' forever and took it to the next level. Listening to him speak and carry out his plans was mesmerizing to witness. Saying out loud what everyone thought, yet was too afraid to even whisper. Tearing down barriers and empowering the underdogs to think they have something to offer. They did, it just wasn't apparent back then _what_ they offered to _whom_.

They were all fools, and now the world has to pay the price for it. Everyone played right into J's hands without realizing what's going on until he makes a fist so tight, it squishes everything in his grasp. Now there's no running away. No one escapes the Joker and gets away with it.

"Yes, Boss." Gray eyes flicker towards the clown smearing blood on his face with the sleeve of his trench coat. His body keeps shaking with a manic fit of giggles as he stares at the body on the ground. Poor sucker… The man didn't deserve to die a dog's death. He just sold a car to the wrong person without knowing it. How could he have possibly known?

_'I hope Sakura is far away now…'_

Boss lifts the bat up to examine it, eyeing the chunks and stingy mess dangling from the end. His dark eyes light up before swinging it to the side and decorating the newbie standing too close in red. The young man jolts and quickly freezes, letting the fluids run down his face. They all know it's better to be still than to react. One wrong move and their skulls will be bashed in too.

"Hahaha! That's a good look on ya. Definitely an improvement!" Joker laughs and strides closer to the poor newbie, each step measured and deliberate. Rocco has seen this too many times before. It's to cause the trepidation to become worse. His long arms sway as the trench coat flutters behind him, still gripping the soiled bat. To the inexperienced eye, it seems like his grasp on the weapon is light, that maybe it can be pulled from his gloved hand. _Wrong_. That's a mistake he _wants_ someone to make as an excuse for the punishment to be infinitely worse.

"Y-Yes, Boss." Tommy drops a few inches to make himself appear smaller when the Boss stops in front of him. Not a bad idea, but won't change anything if a sentence is already passed. It's best to be submissive and give him whatever he wants, especially during one of his fits.

"Should we make some more, ah, _improvements?_ Hmm? You haven't smiled once all evening!" Joker leans in with a nod, smiling widely and pointing towards the corners of his mouth. Everyone knows what that means. He might as well have said, _'Should I carve your face open for shits and giggles?'_ and left it at that.

_'I hate this. I hate it! Why does that goddamn Bat have to hide? At least that would give the Boss something else to do.'_

"Whatever you want, Boss…" Good answer. The boy's learning fast, and that's a great sign. Rocco tries to give the newbie's little tidbits on how to survive the clown's employment, but none of that matters most of the time. Human instincts often kick in and cause people to buckle under the pressure. Running is the worst option because the Boss likes a good chase. He even gives them a head start to give himself a little challenge.

Joker's lip curls up as he moves just inches away from Tommy's face, who keeps completely still while the clown stares him down. He's either debating if the last guy was enough to sate his bloodlust or how to go about this. Usually, there's no hesitation, so this might turn out favorably. The newbie's not a bad kid, just in the wrong place in life.

"Hah! Smart brat." A small smack on the cheek causes Tommy to jump and the clown to starts up another round of giggles, like a goddamn hyena. He's been worse than ever recently and none of the henchmen know how much more they can take. They'll all be dead soon enough, anyway.

Joker turns away from the trembling boy, ignoring his pallid complexion and heavy breaths. None of that matters, except for entertainment. The car dealer must've been enough for the time being, or Tommy would be next to him with his brains spilled across the cement.

"Roc, I'm pretty sure I told you to do something. Didn't I?" The goon shakes off the temporary paralysis gripping him to nod feverishly. The clown's gaze narrows on him and the twitching in his eye starts up. Just like everything else about this man, even his facial muscles are erratic. Sometimes it's the corner of his eyes or a cheek, then there's his mouth. The moment they fall in sync is when it's time to run for the hills. Not that it'll help…

"Got it." Stepping towards the body, Rocco tries holding in his breath to keep the smell from causing him to vomit. Bodies aren't anything new and neither is blood, but this? The Boss is going overboard with every new victim that falls into his gloved hands. God help the suckers who have anything to do with _that_ woman… He's a hundred times worse.

Standing over the car dealer, the goon's brow furrows at the sight. There isn't a head anymore… Just a pile of mush with bone fragments. Above the man's collar is part of a neck with a dark red bone poking out that _was_ a spine.

"Hahaha! What's _wrong_ , buddy? I thought you had the stomach for this? Should we find out if it's still there?" The sound of the Boss's voice pushes him to move, and it's _hard_. Grimacing, he slides his large hands under the man's shoulder and legs to hoist him up. Ignoring the wet noises and fluids seeping into his clothes is a struggle he needs to endure. Any sign of weakness this late in the game will surely end in death. The clown doesn't want useless people working for him.

"Hahh…" Sucking in a sharp breath, Rocco carries the man towards the dumpster in the alley, and thankfully, the lid's already open. If Joker saw he didn't make sure it was, the car dealer wouldn't be the only one finding a resting place in there.

Being so large can have its advantages, and it's easy to toss the body in with the trash— _exactly where the Boss thinks it belongs_. Somewhere down the road, he stopped seeing people as humans and only as garbage that needs to be disposed of. To say working for a man with that kind of mentality is frightening doesn't do it justice. Every person is only a pawn in this terrible game he plays to win. The problem is that he _isn't_ winning, and that makes him far more ferocious than any of the lackeys have ever seen…

"Ahh… So, who's hungry?" The clown clasps his hands and rubs them together. They all know he doesn't give two-shits if anyone is and only says it to make them uncomfortable after what they just witnessed. Who'd want to eat after watching him bash an innocent man's head in? "I'm absolutely famished! C'mon, boys. I wanna get some _Chin-ese._ "

Naturally, he never waits to see if anyone has the balls to answer or cares if they're too nauseated to take a single bite. The world only turns for this man and always will. His wants and desires are what time moves for. The Boss spins on his heel and whistles a tune, walking down the dark alleyway with a little pep in his step. What's left of his entourage silently follows along, hoping to stay as small as physically possible to not draw his attention.

_'He's happy for the moment…'_

There are very few things that can put the Boss in a 'pleasant' mood these days. Murder, arson, and finding leads on the ones foolish enough to think they can escape him. At the moment, they're in unfamiliar territory and should be careful, but that train of thought never crosses the clown's mind. There's no hesitation or caution in his case. Just doing whatever he wants whenever he feels like it. That attitude used to be admirable in the past, but that died out years ago.

It's been almost a year since shit hit the fan and changed _everything_. Rocco doesn't know exactly what happened, just the results. He was running an errand earlier that day and returned to find a complete mess. Gasoline all over the place, a dozen men sprawled out over the floor, Harley dead in the basement, and Joker cackling like a madman.

That might've been the single most terrifying night of his life. He's never seen the Boss so unhinged before, and the men that returned were sure they were all going to be murdered. The ones that tried to run felt the clown's fury crash down on them like boulders in a landslide, while the others were forced to be accomplices.

**_"Catch those pieces of shits and take 'em the basement. NOW! Or you'll be their substitutes."_ **

Better the runaways taste his wrath than themselves. No one just expected it to be so… _gruesome_.

"Hurry it up! We have work to do!" The clown doesn't glance back even once as he trudges down the littered alley. His ears are keen, knowing each one of their positions, and how fast they're walking. No one wants to get in striking range while that bat's still in his hand... However, they don't need to enrage him either.

_'Fucked if ya do, fucked if ya don't…'_

There's no actual work that has to be done. Shit, they're not even in Gotham anymore. The last few months have been spent tracking down clues and following leads. It's laborious and disastrous most of the time, but the Boss won't _stop_. He's hellbent on finding his 'family' and getting them back.

_'More like killing them for escaping.'_

Aside from Joker, no one was more surprised about the pinkette's sudden disappearance than Rocco. Honestly, he never thought she'd pull it off so flawlessly. Escaping the Boss and hiding for an entire year is a feat most could never dream of, let alone accomplish. Good for her. If anyone deserves to slip through his clutches, it's Sakura. For eleven months she endured his abuse and endless bullshit.

From checking out the building and following the bloody prints, she crawled out the window and took off. They only went to the alleyway before vanishing. How someone can lose so much blood and still run away is a complete mystery to the men left alive. The clown himself was the one inspecting everything thoroughly because he didn't believe any of them until seeing it with his own eyes.

The next few weeks were an awful experience they'd all like to forget. Searching every corner of the city, questioning people, checking her old apartment, and surveillance cameras… _Nothing_. It's almost as bad as looking for the flying rat. To make matters worse, the pinkette broke into one spot the Boss hides money and cleaned it out. There would've been three guys there but two were part of the group the clown shot. The last was at the bar, getting drunk in the middle of the night when the robbery took place.

_Poor fool._

He regretted not being on guard, that's for sure. Joker blamed him for losing the money and allowing her to get away, taking out the loss by using the man's body for target practice. The big question is, _how_ did she know about it? Sakura would've only had that kind of information if the Boss mentioned it or overheard him at some point in all those months they were together. He probably figured there was no chance of her getting out anyway, so what difference did it make? Honestly, this is entirely the clown's fault, and he's smart enough to understand that yet will never accept any blame. _He_ ran his mouth; _he_ pushed her to run, and _he_ caused all of this to happen.

_'But it's always everyone else's fault.'_

It's frustrating to watch a man cause so many problems and point fingers everywhere else but himself. Sometimes Rocco wants to shake him and scream _'wake the fuck up!'_ yet self-preservation keeps him silent. Telling the clown any different will only result in him lashing out in the worst ways.

Having all that money after Joker drained her accounts allowed Sakura to run from place to place, with them always _one_ step behind the pinkette. They finally found a lead in Gotham during an interrogation about a pink-haired woman buying a car that had a GPS tracker, but they found it abandoned right outside the state lines.

The clues she leaves are almost mocking in nature and send the Boss into a furious rage. Sometimes there are little notes in vehicles or apartments with funny comments, but the clown doesn't find them as amusing as the henchmen do. When any of them snicker, the knives come out. They quickly learned to keep their mouths shut.

How a pregnant woman can run so far in such a short amount of time is beyond him. By now, the kid should be around six months old, yet she keeps at it. State after state they've gone through in this little mission to snag her, and the Boss refuses to give up. They've had to recruit stragglers along the way from him finding any reason to kill their men off. It's a simple task for a man with a silver tongue and lots of money, but still is an awful process to watch, knowing how it'll end for them.

Sakura's more cunning than Joker expected, and he's kicking himself for it. She bided her time and watched him from a distance, even in the corners he drove her into. Most people that run never get to know him on such a personal level or see his habits. It's what bought her so much time, but even that's running out. They're hot on her tail now and getting closer with each passing day. The trail brought them to Michigan, where they've been for the better part of a month.

_Midway City_

The group has been scouring the city for the last week, trying to find out what they can. That's what led to the car dealer's untimely demise. At the moment, the pinkette's been going by a different name, but she can't change her face or the mark on her forehead. She's been ballsier lately and Rocco thinks it's on purpose, for some ungodly reason. Maybe she wants him to find her or is tired of running?

_'Who knows?'_

Reaching the van at the end of the alley, the men swing the backdoors open and start piling in. Unfortunately, the Boss enjoys sitting in the passenger seat while Rocco drives him around. These days, the anxiety is almost enough to get him into a traffic accident, especially when those gloved hands shoot out to screw with the radio. There's always the fear that one of these times a knife will lodge into his belly while the clown laughs, not giving a damn if they drive off the road. He doesn't care about anything. Not the men, innocent pedestrians, or other drivers, not even himself.

Rocco silently hops into the driver's side and keeps the Boss in his peripherals. It's terrifying to keep an eye on him, yet even worse not to. Right away, the clown pushes the seat all the way back and puts his feet up on the dashboard, paying no mind to the men behind him being squished. No one will make a complaint and they all know it. If anything, he likes the knowledge of making them uncomfortable and seeing them withstand it on his account.

_'Needy little bastard.'_

_"Rocco…"_ The goon freezes with his fingers gripping the keys in the ignition. Slowly turning his head, the Boss is staring right at him while taking a cigarette out of his pack. Those cold, dark pits for eyes pierce him like a blade, trying to cut away the human left to dig right into his soul. The sensation his gaze gives off is like being tossed bare-naked out into the snow, after having everything stripped away. They cause his skin to prickle with goosebumps and panic to lick up his spine. A small tremor is barely suppressed as he swallows hard, doing his best to look at the madman watching him.

"Yeah, Boss?" A wide smile slithers across the greasepaint at the question, and everyone in the van is silent. Shoving the cigarette between his ruined lips, Joker doesn't look away as he slowly lights it, alarming the other men. No one likes it when there's fire in his hands.

"You got a problem? _"_ A trickle of sweat trails down Rocco's temple at the question. It's almost as if the Boss can read their minds and the thought alone is scary. They know he can't or everyone would be dead. This is another thing he does to strike fear into them, to remind everyone _who_ holds the power.

"N-No… Of course not." It's a struggle to talk, like there's a gloved hand coiled around his throat, making it hard to breathe. One wrong word and it's all over. He didn't make it this long to die now. Seven years and any day will finally be the last, but there's nothing that can be done about it. No one comes in contact with this man and has a happy ending.

_'Harley…'_

* * *

There's sobbing coming from the back room on the first floor that draws Rocco's attention. He knows that sound as much as his own name being called out. It's always the same around here, and there's no rhyme or reason for it.

Standing in the doorway, his gray eyes taking in the slumped form of a woman sitting on the floor. Bright blonde hair curtains around her, shielding the lithe woman from anything that might cause the crying to become worse. He already knows what started the tears, but that doesn't stop him from stepping into the small room. The fairer sex has always been a soft spot, especially when they're bawling their eyes out.

**_"Stop being a goddamn pussy, Roc."_ **

That's what the Boss said last time he found him comforting the blonde, after smacking them both. Harley took it the wrong way and thought the clown was jealous, but that's another fleeting fantasy of hers. She was so _happy_ that it's completely mind-boggling and sad.

"What's wrong, Har?" It's a stupid question, he knows… There's only one thing the former doctor cries over. No one understands why this woman stays, despite how often the clown lets it be known he doesn't want to continue their… _relationship?_

It's not a hard concept to grasp for Rocco. Harley threw everything away to be with the Joker. Her job, friends, family, home, every possession, and is now a wanted criminal. If she leaves, then what? Where will she go? If the authorities catch her, they'll squeeze every ounce of information out about the clown and his whereabouts. The mobs and street urchins will do the same.

The pair have made many enemies during their little tryst, and no one forgets the terror they caused. Many people will have a bone to pick with the blonde and want to get back at her for the terrible things she's done. The only thing stopping most of them from getting their hands on her is fear of the retaliation from the Boss. If they knew he doesn't care what happens…

_'Harley will be done for. It's not like she wouldn't deserve it, but still...'_

"I—I hate that woman!" Without looking up, she screams it at the floor as if it might curse the pinkette for her.

Letting out a deep breath, Rocco put his hands on his hips. How many ways can he say the same shit? Part of him feels sympathetic, but the other wants to try smacking some sense into her. She's in a tough spot yet put herself there. No one forced her to help Joker escape Arkham or join in the crime sprees. There wasn't anyone else that put a knife in her hand and encouraged the disgusting acts that followed.

Joker made it very clear from the beginning what kind of man he is and how he thinks of her. They constantly fought, laughed, and hit each other almost daily. The days that didn't happen were the ones the clown didn't return or was out on a job. This was nothing more than a violent affair meant to go down in flames. Everyone can see it, but she refuses to accept it. What did she expect? That they would be together forever? Someday he might grow to love her?

_'Ridiculous…'_

The Boss doesn't share those 'useless' emotions, as he calls them. Every time the subject was brought up, it ends with him cackling and her in tears.

"Har—"

"I know, Roc! Ya don't have to say the same shit! _It's not her fault. She doesn't want to be here. Don't blame her for what the Boss decides to do_. I don't care! If that little bitch wasn't alive, this wouldn't be happening!" Finally lifting her head up, Harley glares at the large man. In a way, she's very similar to the clown. Always blaming others for problems they cause themselves. He can't help sighing at her tear-stained face or the large purple splotch decorating her jaw. It's striking against her pale skin and she scoffs, noticing what he's looking at.

"So, what? Ya think if she dies, the Boss will suddenly treat ya better? Is that it?" They both know the answer, even if it's not voiced. The blonde clenches her teeth, looking away to scowl at the wall.

The difference in how Joker treats the two women is painfully obvious, even if he's still just as rotten. He never had an issue with humiliating the blonde in front of his men, whether it's beatings or name-calling. Sakura's always locked away like a caged mouse and the clown's the big, nasty cat that bats at her through the bars. She hasn't been _allowed_ outside once since the night he brought her here. The apartment is on the top floor and the men have been ordered not to go anywhere near it. Sometimes if Rocco's on the second floor, he can hear crying once in a while, but that's it.

The Boss is a jealous, strange man that keeps the pinkette away from everyone else, so no one sees or hears her. A few of the newer men doubted she existed until there's an escape attempt. The violence that ensues leaves no questions about the ghost upstairs being an actual person. It's terrifying to realize the disembodied voice that filters down the steps comes from a living woman.

"Shaddap… What do ya think I should do then? Just sit here and take it? I can't lose to some pink-haired whore that stole Mista J from me… _I can't._ There's nothin' left for me besides him." The tears break out again as she turns back to him. The swelling along her jaw needs ice, but she'll let it go, wearing it like a badge of pride. Even if it's bad attention, the blonde will take it over none.

"Hahh… Fucking hell. Ya keep going upstairs and he _will_ kill ya one of these days. Why don't ya just take the money and run? Start a new life somewhere? It's gotta be better than _this."_ There are only so many warnings to give before it's too late. To everyone's surprise during their last row, Joker told her to take a wad of cash and get the hell out. Why he doesn't just shoot her is anyone's guess, but Harley takes it the _wrong_ way.

The men place bets each time the two fight now whether Harley will make it out alive. These chicks bring out the worst in him. Most of the time, the Boss doesn't bother with women on their jobs or 'incidences'. They're beneath his attention and unworthy of his art form, which is the only thing Rocco's grateful for. The clown will swear with his dying breath that everyone is the same kind of trash that he disposes of in the same manner.

The man is a living, breathing contradiction. Always says one thing, then does another. Perhaps he does believe it, yet his actions don't line up with the words constantly falling from his mangled mouth. It's not like anyone will argue with him, and if they do, he'll go out of his way to make a _point_.

"Roc… I'm not giving up, even if it means I gotta cut her throat. Ya know I'll do whatever I need to for Mista J. That bitch is trickin' him, using her body to get what she wants. I don't get why he can't see her for what she is. Dumbass…" A chuckle turns into a sob as she covers her face, leaning up against the wall. The entire crew knows all too well how much Harley despises the pinkette, blaming her for everything the Boss does. She's too far gone to listen to reason and rejects any notions the woman is innocent.

"Do ya _really_ think anyone can manipulate the Boss? _Honestly?_ C'mon, Har… Ya know better than that. She doesn't wanna be here at all. Why do ya think she keeps tryin' to escape? You're takin' your anger out on the wrong person. That bruise on your face… It's only gonna get worse if ya keep it up." Crouching down, Rocco doesn't know what can be said to stop the blonde. Joker will kill her one of these days and everyone sees it but her. Isn't it bad enough the clown torments Sakura? Then whenever he leaves, his ex-'girlfriend' goes upstairs to continue where he left off. What kind of life is that? Both don't care or see how terrible they are to the poor girl from being too lost in their own selfish desires.

_'Harley and J make one hell of a pair. Neither has an ounce of empathy for a single person. No wonder they don't get along… They're too much alike in some ways.'_

"Mista J is gonna kill me no matter what I do. The money is just a trick to give him an excuse to get rid of me. I'm not an idiot. He seems to forget who I was before all this." She reaches up to run a hand through her blonde hair, visibly distraught about the predicament they're all in. There's a very good chance the clown wants her to take the offer, then will stick a blade into her stomach the moment she accepts.

What's the point of all this? It's a dysfunctional triangle with no happy ending for any of them… One way or another, both woman gets hurt and the Boss sits back and snickers. Despite the manic laughter, the clown's not getting what he wants either. Sakura hates him, but he desires her anyway. Harley loves him, yet he doesn't want her. The doctor despises the pinkette, who just wants those psychos to leave her alone…

_'Bunch of fucking morons… They'll all end up dead by the end of this.'_

"Why? I just don't get it… I do _everything_ I can for him. Always have… So, what's wrong with me? Every piece of my life has been cut away to stay with Mista J, and after all this time, he acts like I don't exist anymore. The more I try, the nastier he becomes. I don't understand what he wants with a woman that hates his guts. Can't he see that? She doesn't belong in this world where I fit in perfectly. It's… puzzlin'."

"Maybe that's what he likes? Ya try so hard and he knows you'll give him everything. Sakura fights him tooth-and-nail, so I think he likes the challenge. Who knows? No one gets what goes on in that head of his. Don't think anyone ever will…" There's no other explanation Rocco can come up with. It would thrill a lot of men to have a woman like Harley clinging to them. She's beautiful, smart, cunning and _loyal_ to a fault. That's not a mix easy to find, especially with a person who understands and thrives in both worlds.

The blonde was a successful psychiatrist with the potential to have a great life. She also made one hell of a name for herself in the underground. Not many people can adapt this way, yet she did it all with a smile on her face. With her gymnastics training and capacity for learning quickly, Harley's a perfect companion to have in this field. Why does the Boss want to throw that away? He has a keen eye for talent and this woman's _brimming_ with it. No one else could put up with his antics and come back for seconds. She's willing to kill anyone that even insults the Joker and willingly fulfills his demands with feverish intensity.

_'Why throw Harley away for Sakura? Doesn't make any sense.'_

"I don't care… I'm gonna kill that bitch even if it's the last thing I do!" The look in her blue eyes says far more than the words can. If the Boss heard them, he'd come in swinging. Luckily for them, he's out on a job. Once again, he left Harley behind after she begged to go along. That's how her jaw ended up like this. The clown doesn't enjoy being told what to do or anyone questioning his decisions.

_'I warned her…'_

* * *

"That's what I _though-t._ Get movin'. We have a bunny to track down." Rocco purses his lips and looks back towards the steering wheel. Joker's definitely in a pleasant mood after this last clue. They're getting close. All he can hope for is that Sakura will be gone before they get to her.

" _Wabbit season_ … Hahaha!" The sudden hysterics from the Boss causes the goon to jolt in his seat, gripping the wheel in a panic. That raucous noise puts everyone on edge and resounds throughout the entire van, piercing into the men's ear like little blades.

Joker smacks his knee as the laughter dies down, letting his cigarette hang from his ruined bottom lip. He's _enjoying_ their discomfort, knowing full well the effect his actions have on the rest of them.

"Tch. None of you bastards appreciate my jokes. Maybe I should get some men that will? _Hmm?_ How does that sound?"

The silence is deafening from the trepidation washing over all eleven men squished in the vehicle with this madman. Most of them are physically larger than him, but he's proved many times over that size doesn't matter.

"Haha! Nice, Boss!" One squeaks from the back, his voice quivering from not knowing which option's better. Saying nothing will make him angry, but he can also lash out with the excuse they're making fun of his 'woman'. It's happened quite a few times already. None of them ever know which angle he'll take.

A small chorus of nervous chuckles follows, but it sounds _too_ forced. That alone might cause the clown to snap. Flickering his gaze over in anxiety, Rocco tries to eye Joker from his peripherals. Despite getting the laughs he wanted, there doesn't appear to be any amusement in his expression. Taking a long drag from his cigarette, he taps a battered dress shoes against the dashboard in agitation. Dark eyes stare at the road straight ahead and the corner twitches. That's never a good sign, but as long as his hands don't reach into his trench coat pocket, then maybe they'll be fine for now.

_"Move it."_

* * *

Watching the smoke dance in the air, Joker slaps it away in annoyance. Normally he revels in observing the way it twists and turns before escaping, but not anymore. It reminds him too much of the only true failure he's had in years.

Batman and Sakura both slipped through his gloved hands like smoke. Sneaking from the spaces between his fingers and fluttering away, no matter how much he tightened his grip. It's unbelievable and _maddening_ that it happened. No one appreciates the time and effort he puts into them. A bunch of ungrateful stinkbugs he plans to squash under his dress shoes.

_'Little bitch…'_

His lip curls up into a snarl as he glares out the window. If the information he pulled out of the last schmuck is anything to go by, the pinkette mentioned moving to this area recently. They've been staking out different spots for the last four days and not a single glimpse of the pinkette. Not that he's specifically searching for a pink-haired woman. Sakura's not foolish enough to walk around so brazenly with her natural color. _Nope._ From what he's gathered, she switches her name and hair with every new city, but there are always clues about the next destination. Sometimes newspaper clippings left in empty apartments. Occasionally, notes with disrespectful remarks and taunts. It's almost as if she _wants_ him to catch her by leaving these behind…

_'My bunny's smarter than I gave her credit for.'_

The muscle in his cheeks jumps at the thought. That sneaky, _conniving_ witch… Using him for all he's worth, then running off like that. He even killed Harley for her. At least the blonde could've been used to help track Sakura down. That woman's like a bloodhound with people that disrespect him.

Joker works his jaw in anger from thinking about the entire mess. No… Anger isn't the right word. Too tame, too soft. Perhaps there isn't anything that can describe this emotion. He's not sure and doesn't want to waste his precious time thinking about that. It's better spent _elsewhere_.

**_"Haha! Too late, asshole! Better luck next time…"_ **

The cigarette between his fingers snaps in half. That was written on the last note, along with a clipping of a festival going on in Midway City. That cocky slut thinks she's _so_ funny.

_'Wait until I get my hands on her… She won't be laughing then.'_

There's no way Sakura could've lost all that blood and ran without help. Joker knows a dead body when he sees one, especially when there's no pulse. It makes little sense. Doesn't matter... Someone must've seen her in the alleyway. An injured, young pregnant woman will draw sympathy from most morons. He has a few theories on how she pulled this off and it all revolves around a man assisting her. It's impossible in that state to not only hightail it but also _rob_ him. There's a missing piece to the puzzle somewhere, and he'll find it.

_'When I do…'_

The pinkette will be one _sorry_ piece of ass when he catches her. This last year has been spent trying to find her and Batman, all while imagining various ways of tearing her apart. There are no leads on the flying rat, but his bunny has been generously leaving hints. Sakura's a comedian now, apparently. Thinks she's fucking _hilarious_. Where was that sense of humor before? When she was crying in his shirt and asking so _sweetly_ to take it easy on her? Someone needs a refresher course and beaten back into place.

Did she have a good laugh? Was it hard to stay limp while he was losing his shit? Does she get a kick out of it while spending _his_ money and living it up? How often does she replay everything he did? He bets she has a _nice_ shit-eating grin each time.

For the first time, Joker felt utterly _humiliated_. He can't remember if that's ever happened before. It took a while to place a word on that sensation, but he found that little shit-stain somewhere in the pile. To think he was easing up on her... A few months of spacing out his fits and look what happens? _Never again_. He had it right the first time, and it should've stayed that way. What an ungrateful, selfish woman. If only he didn't spend so much time on Harley, he might've caught the pinkette trying to escape.

The rage boiling up inside causes him to sweat, making the black greasepaint around his eyes weep further. It's chilly outside, but the fire burning beneath his skin keeps him hot. Studying every face that passes by is driving him up a wall, silently waiting for his prey to show up. He should've kept that snotty car dealer alive to get more information out of him or to use as bait. The rage led to acting out and prematurely disposing of the best lead he's had in weeks. Who can blame him though?

_'This is all Sakura's fault.'_

At first, Joker was determined to murder the pinkette the moment she's found. That's too good for someone like her. _Nope_. Different scenarios played through his mind to remedy the situation. He's all about making a _point_. Sometimes, he can be a reasonable man. The problem is her running away, right? Having no feet will make that impossible. She won't get far without those. Unfortunately, he enjoys chasing her, so that won't do. Eyes? Gouging them out will leave her helpless and she'll have to rely on him for _everything_. That was an option that sounded best, and he resolved on making it happen. That's another issue… Those little gems are priceless, as are the emotions he's able to draw out of them.

 _"Tch…"_ So many options and only one body. If he takes it too far, there might be nothing left to enjoy. There's also the brat… What the hell does he do with it? Killing the baby isn't an option. _Nope_. That serves no purpose and is a useless act of barbarity better left to scum on the streets. His style of violence is an art form that shouldn't be wasted on the likes of a creature that won't appreciate it.

The child is better left alive to be used as a weapon. It's all Sakura has to cling on and means more to her than life itself. What else would've elicited her compliance back then? Pain, fear, taking her home and income, family, friends, possessions… None of that did a single thing for months. After the pinkette became pregnant, the state of their cohabitation gradually _changed_. Big mistake. One he's regretted for the last year now. That's another unwanted emotion she pulled out of him that someone needs to pay for.

Joker doesn't recall a person who's ever made this number of consecutive attacks against him that are so _personal_. The Bat throws fists at every part of his body, yet never reached inside to rip everything out. Sakura can't physically hurt him but found another means of evoking injuries. Another funny little joke. Both filled separate needs for the clown, and they also discovered different angles to destroy him from.

Sakura tried taking everything on the way out. That woman _robbed_ him of so many things. She fucked with him, stole the experiences he was eager to observe, caused the deaths of over a dozen goons and Harley, ran away, took a large sum of money, kidnapped something of _his_ creation… That's only a quick summary. Going into detail will only cause him to have another fit in the van.

Right now, he needs to keep a sharp eye to get this done. It's a pain in the ass that'll pay off in the long run. She's somewhere around here and until another lead pops up, this is where they'll stay. The festival's in two days. There's a reason she left that specific clipping and either she'll be there or another clue will be. Honestly, he never imagined she had it in her to do any of this.

 **_"Heheh… Did… Did it ever occur to ya,_ ** _**J…** _ **_that maybe she killed herself to get away from ya? Everyone knows how much she despised— "_ **

These little women have a funny way of surprising him in the end. Just when the clown thinks he has them figured out, a blade's whipped out and jammed right into his chest. Then again, that's what makes this so entertaining, even if it pisses him off. Sakura enraged him, yet this chase has his blood surging in _all_ the worst ways. He underestimated her... A mistake that _won't_ be made again. Unlike last time, Joker has a weapon that will keep her compliant. A baby… The pinkette will do everything he says for the child's sake. He just needs to get his hands on it first. Then she'll crumple into a pile that he can do anything with.

_'She needs to be punished... Looks like the lessons will have to continue until we get it right. This time I won't be careless.'_

It'll take a while and a lot of effort, but this is worth it. Without the Bat, life just isn't fun the way it used to be. Retraining the pinkette and breaking her in will fill that void.

* * *

_"Good."_

To say he feels smug is a complete understatement. That word alone won't do this sensation any justice. Having this woman straddling his legs, burying her face in his chest and willingly handing everything over… He's been _waiting_ for this moment for months and now it's finally here.

_'She's broken.'_

If he knew knocking her up would do the trick, this might've happened a lot sooner. The thought of a baby repulses him, but that won't be _his_ problem. With something to fill her days in his absence, she should become more docile towards him. If not, there's still the fear of anything happening to the child to keep her in line. The thought of another person being more important than him is intolerable, but the knowledge that it's a part of him helps quell some of his fury.

Joker knows it's beneath him to be jealous of a shitty brat, especially one that's only the size of a blueberry right now. So tiny he could squish it between his fingers with zero effort if there wasn't a woman surrounding the little bastard. That was his train of thought while browsing through information on the internet in a state of boredom. It's better to know everything about his enemy, to plan properly.

Sakura's hands grasp the front of the dress shirt, still keeping her face hidden against his chest. It's painfully obvious how difficult this must be on her and it only makes his smile widen, pulling on the scars around his mouth. Any more and they might split open and cover her in blood. The thought causes something terrible to stir inside the clown, exciting him. He's seen the pinkette with her own blood trailing over that pale skin, but what about his own?

Images run past Joker's mind that cause his skin to heat-up. What a _beautiful_ sight that'll make. His dark, red blood would be striking against her appearance, taking that soft exterior and twisting it into a grisly image. He's certain there's nothing she'd want more than to murder _him_ and be done with it all. Too bad for his little bunny there's still too much to do, and he doesn't want to let her go.

Witnessing Sakura crossing that line and finally losing it… To see a woman that spent her life caring for others and go against everything she stands for is a _tantalizing_ idea. He's set up a perfect scenario by fueling her with rage, pushing the pinkette into a corner where the only thing left is to lash out or submit. If he puts a knife in her hand, will his throat be slit open? Rammed in his chest to the hilt? Or is there too much humanity left? That little conscious might stop her from finishing the job, but seeing what happens will be entertaining.

"Is that all you want? For me to behave?" Her voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. The hands on his shirt anxiously twist the fabric in their clasp, waiting for a response. She wants to know if his desires are fulfilled, will she be treated better? The clown's not a fool that can't read between the lines.

 _"Heh."_ Sakura stiffens when he reaches behind her to tug his gloves off. Doesn't she get it yet? A joke isn't funny anymore if he has to explain it. "Sure, dollface."

The pinkette leans back to narrow her gaze on him. It's almost surprising the amount of balls she's been displaying lately. Is she trying to see if he's being honest? That's a waste of time…

The hands against his chest slip down, slowly trailing towards his belt. His eyes dart in their direction, watching curiously to see what she plans on doing. It's not like her to make a move, but he won't complain. The muscle in his cheek jumps when her slim fingers graze his belt, only for him to scowl as they move away.

_'Is she trying to tease me?'_

Grinding his teeth, the clown debates pushing her off his lap to the floor. He's not in the mood for games at the moment.

"I hope you'll do the _same_." Grabbing the bottom of her slip, Sakura pulls it over her head, tossing the flimsy garment on the rug. The same spot she was seconds away from finding herself from messing with him. Letting out a heavy breath, the pinkette's hands instinctively move to cover her bare chest from the chill in the room, stopping midway to grip his dress shirt instead. Shifting closer towards his warmth, she curls into him, nuzzling her face against the crook of his neck.

Joker almost swallows his own tongue, completely thunderstruck. He doesn't move or speak, silently allowing this strange experience to play out. This woman has _never_ sought him out for _anything_ , yet here she is, clinging and shivering in his lap. Her words are a distant thought, finding the result more interesting than their purpose. She's finally doing what's expected of her and he doesn't know how to react. Part of him didn't think it'd actually happen, but couldn't be more pleased.

"I want you, J…" Sakura breathes out, nipping the skin along the column of his neck. He swallows hard, closing his eyes and drinking in the attention she's giving him. It's a struggle to keep still, to not lash out or grip her up. If this is how she'll act for now on, perhaps he might ease up… a little. The only reason he treats her this way is because she's arrogant and doesn't listen.

_'Positive reinforcement...'_

"Do you, now?" A chuckle builds up in his throat, only to die out when she pulls back. The pinkette stares at him, letting her eyes roam over his face. She's looked at him a million times, but this feels different. Like those little emeralds are peeling away his flesh and muscle, trying to find something that isn't there. The sensation it leaves him with is uncomfortable and his gaze turns cold, going back to the idea of shoving her to the floor.

"I do." Sakura slowly nods, moving in to brush her lips along the side of his mouth. Over his _scars_. Her warm breaths and the soft texture against his ruined skin cause his hands to ball up into fists. He doesn't know if it's shock or curiosity that kept him from acting out, but he can't do it anymore.

Grabbing her hips, Joker stands up and tosses the pinkette onto the mattress. If she wants to fuck around, then that's _exactly_ what he'll do.

Bunny's breathless when she lands in the sea of messy sheets, staring up at him in disbelief. This time he laughs, loud and obnoxiously at her shocked expression. It's what she deserves for taking him off guard like this. That's too many times in one day for his liking.

Smiling like a devil, Joker slowly stalks around the bed, each step measured and precise. Watching her becoming frantic is a pastime he's learned to enjoy as she grabs a sheet to cover herself with. Perhaps his bunny thinks he's angry? That's not the case, but he isn't about to tell her otherwise. Her eyes are full of panic, a stark contrast to their appearance only seconds ago.

Deftly plucking at the buttons on his dress shirt, he soaks in the emotions rolling off her in waves, eyeing her up from under his heavy lids. If she'll start behaving, there needs to be some kind of reward to keep it going.

And that's exactly what he is… _the reward_.

* * *

"Hahh…" The clown breathes out, watching the smoke flutter in the frigid air. No matter how cold he keeps the building, the sweating never stops. The temperature is set to the lowest degrees the system can handle to draw the desired reactions out of his bunny, knowing she doesn't handle it well. Holding him is as good as sitting next to a crackling fire, and he tries using that to his advantage when she's trembling like a leaf. She probably has no clue it's May, and the weather is warm outside, but that's information the pinkette doesn't need to know. There's no time or season in this world of his own creation.

_Only him._

His eyes feel heavy as he takes another long drag, glaring at the ember at the end of the cigarette. This little game is playing out in his favor in one aspect, but how long will she keep it up?

**_"I want you, J…"_ **

Joker's eyes drag from the smoke between his fingers, towards a spot on the wall to scowl at. That's what he wanted to hear from her all this time and sounded better than expected.

Grasping a blade on the table he's sitting at, the clown starts mindlessly digging into the surface, mulling over everything that happened upstairs. His bunny has a way of surprising him lately, and he can't say it's not enjoyable. The blood on his back already dried and flakes off each time he shifts against the chair. Her nails… They're like little knives trying to tear his skin right off and he revels in it. Pain and pleasure go hand-in-hand. Perhaps she's starting to appreciate that mindset.

Sakura did everything he wanted, but that anger is ever-present. Maybe it's from knowing this is all an act to save her skin… She didn't hold anything back, shrieking and clawing at him like a cat in heat. This is how he _wanted_ his bunny to be, yet after everything's said and done…

"Tch!" Stabbing the table, his rage won't go away. She called him a liar, a filthy _coward_ for what he did.

Lying against the headboard an hour ago, his mind started wandering to make sense of his own actions. _Big mistake_. That's exactly why he shouldn't look for reason in anything, let alone himself. She was sleeping soundly next to him, curled up on her side. Staring at the pinkette's peaceful face too long and the purple blotches along her neck set him off. He doesn't like the heavy sensation in his chest or what she's drawing out of him. Any time there's an obstacle in the clown's way, there's only one option to keep going.

_Get rid of it._

That's what pushed him to coil his hands around her neck while she slept. It's what made his grip tight enough to cut off her airway. This whole time, he planned on keeping her and having fun along the way. The whole reason he scoured the streets that night was from the hollow space in his chest, wanting something to fill that void. Now it's _too_ full, and he doesn't know what to do with it.

**_"You're a fucking liar! The moment I do what you want… You try to kill me?! Why the hell should I do anything you say now? I-I can't believe this… 'Man of your word' my ass! Filthy coward!"_ **

His lips curl up into a snarl, needing to take this vicious anger out on _something_. Admitting that she's right won't ever happen. If she didn't knee him in the groin, Rocco might've been stuck cleaning up another corpse. What's the point of all this just to strangle her? He didn't have an answer for her upstairs and can't come up with anything smart even now.

The clown works his jaw, tightening the hold on the blade's handle. He doesn't have to justify his actions, least of all to a small woman. Her words bit at his insides in all the _wrong_ ways. If he put his hands on her at that moment, there was no stopping. Today seems to be all about _firsts_ because he forced himself out of the bedroom and down the flights of stairs.

Joker doesn't feel guilty. Those kinds of emotions are lost on a man like him. He knows that, yet can't explain the sensation pricking at his sides. That moment Sakura's eyes flew open when he was choking her said more than he would've liked.

_Betrayal…_

That's all he could see in them. None of the fear and anger that followed after she retaliated. Just pure, unadulterated betrayal. She went out of her way to do what he demanded and was still punished for it. His bunny trusted that he would keep his word, that if she pleased him, everything will get better. The pinkette couldn't have done better, even surpassing his expectations in a single night. That still didn't stop him from acting up at the last moment.

_'Fuck… Fuck!'_

"Mista J?" Dark eyes tear away from the blade in his hand, towards the woman leaning against the doorframe. The scowl plastered on his face turns into a grin as he watches her eyeing him up, taking in his disheveled appearance. The clown already knows he looks like a mess, with his hair sticking out in every direction and blood dried around his mouth and back. He didn't bother picking up the dress shirt off the carpet upstairs either.

Sitting back in the chair, Joker narrows his gaze on Harley, already knowing what she's up to. Those blue eyes trail over his bare chest, zeroing in on the scratch marks trailing over his tan skin. It would be a lie to say he doesn't enjoy flaunting it in front of her, letting the blonde know what she's missing out on. Making her life miserable is the only thing keeping the former doctor alive now. Once it's no longer entertaining, she'll just be a smudge in his past like everything else.

Long-forgotten and never missed. A distant memory that will only return for a good laugh now and then.

"Whatcha want?" Taking another drag, he blows it in her direction. They both know he doesn't give a damn what she came here for, so why bother? The answer is always going to be 'no' unless it involves something that'll make him cackle. Strapping her to a rocket, throwing her through a window, a fist to the jaw… Those he doesn't mind doing for her. Everything else is too much of a bother.

"I wanna go on the job with you tomorrow." Harley crosses her arms across the skin-tight red outfit she enjoys wearing these days, giving him a hard look. What gives these cocky women the impression he gives a shit about _anything_ they want? He already told her to fuck off, and she keeps coming back for more.

Saying nothing, Joker crushes the cigarette on the desk's surface and stands up. Striding over to one of the boxes in the corner, he leans over to jostle stuff around, giving her a clear view of his back. The torn skin splits open from the movements, causing the blood to run from the wounds again.

_Just to rub it in her face._

He doesn't need anything from the box. This is only to force Harley to see the evidence from what happened upstairs if the rest didn't give it away. Grabbing a random object from the top, he smiles wide at the sharp inhale. She's upset and that's exactly how he likes her.

"Why do ya have to be like this? Can't we just go back to the way it used to be?"

Straightening his back, the clown snorts through his nose. The way they used to be? The only thing that's different is them not fucking anymore. Or taking her on jobs with him because she tries to pull shit to get his attention. Both have always mixed and he's done with that. She's stale and used, no longer catching his interest. They've had their fun, and that died out a while ago, yet she doesn't know when to _quit_.

"Knock it off and get out." Turning around, Joker feels the rage from earlier bubbling in his chest. He was looking for someone other than his bunny to take it out on and here comes Harley, ready to test his patience.

_'Like always… Stupid bitch.'_

It's infuriating how the people around this building enjoy pushing his buttons recently, whether or not they realize he's around. Sometimes he feigns walking through the front door, only to slither back in and sit on the stairs, waiting to see what his men have to say when they think he's gone. The blonde never has an issue with letting her inner thoughts out, but they do. It's a good way to weed out the ones that aren't loyal.

Just before leaving for two weeks, one moron lounging around thought they'd try their hand at comedy without realizing he was on the staircase listening to every word. Usually, he waits to act until they're completely off guard, then the surprise is more hilarious. Not that time. An _amusing_ joke about his color preferences going from purple and green, to yellow and pink. Harley's the only one that laughed, and after he finished beating the goon's head in with _her_ mallet, she received a heavy right hook to the jaw.

If these bastards are going to make wisecracks, they better be goddamn _funny_. No one enjoys stepping up to the mic now.

"Look, if you're tryin' to teach me a lesson, I got it!" The blonde steps closer, shaking her hands to get the point across. Desperation drips from each word, trying to find any small space she can wedge herself into. "You're not taking _her_ along, so why can't I go?"

This old topic again? One thing the Joker doesn't like is monotony, and she's been giving it in spades. Same shit, different day. Whining and begging for attention, doing anything possible to get it, even if it's the _wrong_ kind. Ignoring her usually brings out a different side that's amusing, but even that's losing its edge. If it's not entertaining, then he's not interested.

Any time Harley comes out on a job, she screws something up by being overzealous to prove her point. _He needs her_. That's what she's trying to make painfully clear, but that's not true at all. Joker has never _needed_ anyone, and that won't change. Not her, Sakura, the money, the weapons, none of it. Having an attachment to people or objects is a useless notion that only impedes progress.

Swiping the forked scar on his bottom lip, Joker steps over to the chair and flops down. If the blonde wants to waste her breath until he does something about it, then be his guest. Spreading his knees apart, he sneers as she watches him with rapt attention, following each of his movements like a hawk.

"You're not even gonna say anythin' to me? Is that where we are?" Harley chuckles, shaking her head at the ridiculousness of it all. "Ya wanna throw everything we had away for some pink-haired slut?"

Now, she's _asking_ for it.

"Do you want me to hurt you? _Hmm?_ " The clown's shoulder's raise up, getting ready to lunge. The tension throughout his body is looking for an excuse to find a way out and she's been on thin ice. It never takes much to set him off, but talking about his bunny brings a guaranteed ass-beating. Insulting her is the same as doing it to him since she's _his_ property. Disrespect and insubordination aren't tolerated in his world. Sometimes people need a heavy-handed reminder of that.

"I've been by your side all this time… Ya won't take me on jobs, barely look my way or even fuck me anymore. I thought ya were more exciting than this, Mista J. Now, you're becomin' boring. When did that skank latch a ball and chain 'round your neck, huh?" She purses her lips, tapping an angry foot against the floor. Instead of the insults eliciting the reaction she wants, Joker throws his head back and _laughs_.

_'Is Harley that desperate for attention that even a beating's better than nothing? She's saying anything off the top of her head to piss me off... And it's working.'_

"Heh! You're, ah, pretty _funny_ …" Normally, he would've smacked the spit out of her mouth by now, but watching the rage building in the blonde is more entertaining. Why should he be the only one that's fuming?

"There's nothing funny about this!" With her shoulders raised and voice turning into a high-pitched screech, Joker falls into an endless fit of giggles. She looks like a ferocious kitten ready to bat at him. If he hadn't seen the blonde in action with that oversized mallet, that's all he'd think of her as. The raucous noise causes Harley to become flustered, her face turning a bright shade of red.

 _This_ is comedy.

"Why? Why does everything have to be a goddamn joke to you?" His laughter seems to be contagious because it's lacing in with her words. He knows the effect his voice has on her, still cackling as the blonde steps in the space between his bouncing knees.

_'Hmm? Is this what she wants?'_

"Everything's a joke, Har. Haven't you realized that by now?" Dark eyes narrow on the slender woman when she crouches low, resting her hands on his thighs. The giggling abruptly stops the moment her fingers start running over the pinstriped fabric, smoothing it out.

Smacking his lip, Joker doesn't know what the hell is with these women today. Something's going around and infecting their brains, making these cat's act ballsier than usual. Are they all in heat? Or their cycles lining up from being in proximity to each other?

The clown's not stupid and knows exactly what Harley wants. It's been months since they last fucked and she loves reminding him that no other man has touched her since. Does she think that'll get him going? Or that she can pressure him into doing it by acting like a horny slut on fire that needs him to put out the flames? Perhaps she forgets that he enjoys watching things burn.

She's practically _purring_ , slowly rubbing her hands along his thighs, trying to work her way up. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he silently watches the wheels turning behind those blue eyes batting at him. Aside from their fistfights, this is the closest the blonde's gotten to him in a while. She's taking her time and being cautious, seeing how far this will go before he puts a stop to it.

That's _if_ he puts a stop to it.

"Is that what _Daddy's lil' monster_ wants?" He cackles at his own condescending tone, referencing the shirt she wore from her last attempt at seducing him. A bright smile splits her face, moving closer to run those deadly hands over his groin. That grin quickly fades as her brow furrows, looking between his legs in disbelief.

"Haha… Wha- _t?_ Hate to break it to you, but I already came a few times upstairs. No more lead in the pencil for you. Gonna have to do more than feelin' me up to get it goin'." The grimace on her face causes his chest to rumble with laughter. The noise bounces off the walls of the small room, making the blonde wince as it digs in her ears.

"Are you fucking kiddin' me, Mista J? That's never been a problem before. You've been sitting down here for an _hour_. That more than enough time." Harley's not wrong, and that's been proven that many times in the past. He doesn't _feel_ like it, and that's all that matters. No one can force him to do anything, let alone a shrieky bitch. If he wants to fuck someone, there's a woman right upstairs that can get him going. Now _that's_ exciting. He's already had this one every which way, and she was used before he picked her up.

"You can always try sucking my cock. That might do the, ah, _trick_. Heh… You'll have to lick our cum off it first. Or—" Before she can jump back, a large hand latches on the back of her head, yanking on the blonde hair to expose her neck. Leaning close so their noses barely touch, Harley hisses angrily in his face yet _still_ arches forward. She's always liked the rough treatment and apparently still does. "If you want my load that bad, there's plenty you can get out of Sakura. She might even still be awake." There's no way in hell he'd let anyone go upstairs but can't resist teasing her. The former doctor's the one that suggested having an open relationship if it means she can still be with him. That came out when she realized the pinkette wouldn't be killed or disposed of.

 _No thanks._ Molding one woman is more than enough on his hands. It's about _quality_ , not quantity. The same concept can be applied to dog trainers. Spending time to make a single bitch behave properly is better than spreading themselves thin over ten unruly shits and getting no results. A smart man knows which is more rewarding.

Harley freezes as her jaw goes slack, completely in disbelief at what he's saying. Making people uncomfortable is his specialty, and disgusting them is a treat to top it all off. Pushing her will only bring him more entertainment when she finally freaks out, and he knows exactly which switches to flick. "I know you can appreciate good pussy. Soft, tight, sweet, _we-t_. Nothing's better than being trapped in one with no chance of escaping. Right? We all have our preferences. What was that plant-whore's name again? Ah, yes… Eye-vee? Hers must've been pretty good to get you to bat for both teams. Why don't you try it again? I already have what I want and that doesn't include a bunch of used up, loose sluts that—"

The hand on his thigh wails him across the face, holding nothing back. Harley's shaking, clenching her jaw as tears run down those long lashes. When he smiles wide at the anger radiating from her slight form, she takes another swing, smearing some of his sweaty greasepaint onto her palm.

"Ya bastard!" Harley keeps swinging and her ferocity grows the louder he laughs at the feeble attempts to hurt him. She should know it takes a lot more cause _real_ pain. The scratches along his back are worse than this. "I'll kill ya, then cut that whore's throat!"

A heavy fist connects with her jaw, knocking the blonde backward onto the floor. This isn't funny _anymore_. He let her ramble on too much and now she crossed the line.

Bolting up, Joker stands over the lithe woman on the floor, his eyes losing the mirth they held just a moment ago. Cold and angry, filled to the brim with hate. When Harley cranes her neck back to look up in them, she can see it too and lets out a shaky breath, knowing what's about to come.

"Whatcha plan on doing? _Hmm?_ I might've, ah, _heard_ you wrong. I thought you said somethin' about killing _me_ and cutting my bunny's throat. Is that righ- _t?"_ Pulling his leg back, the clown grits his teeth and swings his barefoot against her ribs, knocking the wind out. She slides across the floor from the blow, barely able to let out more than a wheeze to his dissatisfaction. A _scream_ is what he wanted…

Harley curls into herself, sobbing quietly. Joker knows it's not from the pain. This woman can take more than she dishes out to others, with a tolerance many in their field wish they possessed. No, the blonde's distraught about what he said and how nothing's working out between them. He's beaten her senseless before and didn't care, as long as she's the only woman in his life.

Dropping to his haunches, the clown shifts his head to the side, drinking in her tears. What a petty bitch talking to him like that. Making threats she can never carry out… He should break every bone in her body just to make a point. There's no way of getting upstairs if she can't walk.

A hand shoots out to grab a handful of light hair, gripping it hard and yanking her head back until she screams. There it is… That's what he wants to hear.

"M-Mista J! Stop!" Harley shrieks, desperately scratching at his wrist to relieve the pressure on her skull. "Let go! You're gonna rip it out!"

"Hahaha… You want to go on the job tomorrow _this_ bad? Fine… You can come." Joker's lips curl up into a sneer, pushing her head down against the floor. She wants to tag along? _So be it._ Anything that happens will be her own goddamn fault.

_'Harley brought this on herself… Should have kept her fucking mouth shut for once.'_

* * *

"Boss! Boss!" A hand smacks him on the shoulder and he's ready to blow out their brains right in this van when twists around in his seat. The goon in the back is frantic, tapping a finger against the glass. "Look! I think it's her."

If it wasn't one of the men he brought from Gotham, the backseat would be covered in blood for daring to touch him. They've been sitting here so long, Joker must've started spacing out and didn't hear them the first time. Glancing at Rocco, his sweaty, terror-stricken face says more than enough. _It's true_. The big guy wouldn't appear upset unless he caught a glimpse of her, knowing what it means. Fucking _pussy a_ lways has a soft spot for women.

"Over there… On the sidewalk. I'm pretty sure it's her, but the hair's not right."

Pushing his face up against the window, the clown's dark eyes dart around from face to face. Searching for pink hair would've been pointless, but he'll know it's Sakura from _everything_ else. Licking his lips, he's practically trembling in his seat from anticipation. It's been so long and he can't wait to dig his claws into her.

Glossing over the sea of heads, there are too many people walking along the busy street. This city's just as populated as Gotham, but the upcoming festival brought even more schmucks than usual, making it almost impossible to comb through them all.

 _"Where?"_ Joker is growing impatient and if the man behind him lost sight of her… Well, there'll be _hell_ to pay.

"By the fountain. I'm sure that's her…" His voice trails off as doubt seeps through. If he's wrong, everyone knows what will happen for not only getting the Boss worked up but also tapping him on the shoulder.

Tearing his gaze towards the fountain, there's a large crowd gathered around it. Families, couples, children… People walking along the ledge or making wishes and tossing coins in. It's still cold so they're all bundled up, but that won't make a difference. If she's there, he'll sniff her out.

_'Hmm… Where are you bunny?'_

Joker's eyes fly open when he sees a couple walking away from the rest of the crowd. A small woman in a thick coat, with black hair sticking out from under a beanie. _That face_ … There's no mistaking it after all the time he's spent staring at it. Pale, soft, green eyes, and that goddamn mark on her forehead.

A heavy breath forces its way from between his ruined lips, and the voices around the van fade into the background. All he can hear is the erratic pounding slamming against his ears, giving him a sense of vertigo. Time stands still as he watches her move in slow motion, bouncing a bundle in her arms to get a better hold. He knows what that is… The familiar dirty-blond curls poking out of the top strikes him like a lightning bolt, shocking him straight to the core. That's _his_ kid in there. The one that little witch stole and ran off with.

It doesn't seem real. Not him being here, Sakura, or the small body she's guarding with her life. Her arms are wrapped around the baby, holding it tight against her like someone might snatch it away. _Smart_. She's learned to be careful with what belongs to her. The same way Joker has, as well.

_'Who the fuck is that?!'_

A feral growl builds up in his chest that causes the other men in the van to push themselves further away from him. His entire body shakes with tremors as he grips the gun in his holster.

A man walks down the sidewalk with her, standing _too_ close. Tall, dark hair, and wearing a long coat that has nothing on his own. It's a struggle to stay in the van, to not jump out and start firing on everyone. No, he has to play his cards right or it'll all be for nothing. Going back to Gotham empty-handed is not part of the plan. If he gets out now, there's nothing stopping him from putting a bullet in her and that scumbag's head.

_'That little whore… Lying, screwing around, stealing my money and running… Now, she's cheating on me?'_

There's only so much that can be forgiven, but this takes the cake. He _might've_ gone easy on her if she came back willingly. She replaced him with some pig, letting him play the part of 'Daddy' in their _family_.

"Fuck!" A fist crashes down against the armrest, making Rocco jump in his seat. Cursing and spitting, the clown keeps beating on it until the cover breaks off. Glaring at the man on the driver's side, he flinches when Joker growls out in anger, utterly seething and ready to kill.

_"Follow them."_

"Y-Yes, Boss…" Rocco fiddles with the keys in the ignition, his hands shaking from the panic coursing through him. The van starts up and they pull out of their parking spot, driving slowly to keep a distance between them and their targets.

The clown snaps his jaw in a fit of rage, pressing his gloved fingers together and wishing that man's head was between them. First thing's first… Sakura's recent lover needs to learn his place and pay the ultimate price for his sins against the Joker. His sweet, little bunny's next, and this time, he won't listen to the empty words she whispers in his ears.

**_"I want you, J…"_ **

He thought the pinkette might be better than other people. That his bunny was finally being honest with him and herself. Things really seemed to get better after that night, and he tried easing up for her. Sometimes, people never learn a lesson and need to keep being taught until they get it right. Unfortunately for her, Joker can be patient and generous when he wants. The teaching won't ever end and she'll find that out the hard way.

_'I found you now, bunny.'_


End file.
